


get over your hill and see what you find there

by orphan_account



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Asexuality Spectrum, Blood and Injury, Gender Identity, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Recovery, Slow Burn, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-20
Updated: 2016-01-02
Packaged: 2018-05-07 19:55:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 26,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5468972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Following the destruction of the Starkiller Poe is inexorably drawn to Finn, who is forced to carve out an identity for himself after a lifetime of nameless conformity. In helping Finn, Poe is taught how to become something more than the galaxy's greatest pilot, and Finn learns how to leave his stormtrooper past behind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Just saw The Force Awakens last night and spent the entirety of today writing this. Normally I try not to jump the gun and post a fic before I am finished; just be warned updates may be irregular since it's not entirely pre-written.
> 
> Spoilers and headcanons galore. Thanks for reading.
> 
> Title from "After the Storm" by Mumford & Sons.

_And after the storm,_   
_I run and run as the rains come_   
_And I look up, I look up,_   
_on my knees and out of luck,_   
_I look up._   
_Night has always pushed up day_   
_You must know life to see decay_   
_But I won't rot, I won't rot_   
_Not this mind and not this heart,_   
_I won't rot..._

Poe didn't see much in the days ensuing the destruction of Starkiller, except for the infirmary walls and Finn's prone, injured body stark against the white sheets. He kept Finn's jacket—no longer his jacket—folded on a chair in the corner. BB-8 stuck by his side, occasionally leaving to bring him datapanels on the Resistance's progress, or holopanels from his dorm to watch movies.

 

He started talking to Finn by the second morning. “Man, you probably haven't seen a single movie in your life, have you?” he asked. Finn, of course, didn't answer, didn't even move save for the rise and fall of his chest. Poe continued anyways, “Look, when you get up, we're gonna have a marathon.” His grin faltered. “You deserve it.”

 

Rey popped in often, in between gearing up for her Skywalker recon mission and practicing with the lightsaber. Poe hadn't spoken to her much, and she was awkward, usually leaning against the wall with her arms crossed, staring at Finn with a crease in her brow and a tight frown. Once, upon returning from the john, he stopped a foot away from the door and saw Rey sitting beside Finn, holding his hand, whispering things, soft and vulnerable in a way she'd obviously only intended for Finn to see. Poe turned around and decided to repair his X-wing, chest tight with something he couldn't name.

 

He made the stupidest mistakes in the hangar, cutting his palms up and banging his elbows against parts, preoccupied with wondering what Rey was telling Finn: I love you, maybe? The possibility of a love confession made Poe sit down and rest his forearms against his knees. In a weird way, Poe felt that he and Finn shared something special. Shit, he named the guy—and Finn threw away everything to break him out of imprisonment. That had to count for something, and the idea that Rey could have something like that with Finn—something even stronger—incensed him.

 

A beep from BB-8 jostled Poe out of his thoughts. He snapped his head up and sighed. “Sorry, buddy.”

 

[You are not performing optimally,] BB-8 noted. [The First Order Assholes have been weakened,] he reminded.

 

“Yeah.” Poe wiped his hands off with the rag tucked into the hem of his pants. “It's just... I could have done better.”

 

[Our X-wing was in prime condition. You were piloting at your fullest potential.]

 

“Well it wasn't good enough.” Poe scowled. He stood up and put his tools away and latched the toolbox shut. “Shit.”

 

Unable to return to Finn's room with his conflicting emotions, Poe went outside instead, across the runway and toward the lake where he was hidden by the trees, and sat down on a large rock. He pulled a pack of cigarettes out from his pocket and tapped them against his thigh before lighting one. “Oh, come on,” he said when BB-8 gave an affronted chirp, rolling his eyes, “I got a lot of shit to deal with.”

 

He stared out at the water while he smoked, the clouds reflected on the unbroken surface of the lake. Light footsteps sounded behind him, and he turned around. Rey walked out from the trees, lightsaber holstered against her thigh. Her hair was pinned back nicely, her new getup much better than the Jakku rags Poe first saw her in. She nodded to him, then toed off her shoots and sat at the shore of the lake with her feet in the water. BB-8 looked between them both silently.

 

“Do you smoke often?” she asked, looking ahead.

 

“Nope.” Poe tapped the ash off the cigarette. “Only when I'm stressed out.”

 

She hummed. “There were a lot of drugs on Jakku. Never touched any of them.”

 

Poe shrugged. “Picked up the habit from my old man.”

 

Rey turned. Poe saw her profile. She opened her mouth as if to say something, then looked back out to the lake.

 

“They're dead, if that's what you're wondering,” he confirmed. “The First Order attacked our town. I was a refugee. Wanted to stay with the Resistance and fight.” He laid back on the rock. “'Rest is history.”

 

“I'm sorry,” she said.

 

“How about you?” he asked.

 

“About what?”

 

“Your family.”

 

“Oh.” Rey tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I don't know anymore.”

 

Poe frowned.

 

“I was left on Jakku when I was younger. They never came back.” She paused. “I knew they were probably dead. But...” She shook her head.

 

Poe finished his cigarette and stood and sat down beside her. “But what?”

 

She looked at him. “It's crazy.”

 

He smiled. “Crazy's good most of the time.”

 

Rey scoffed. She took the lightsaber out of its holster and held it in her hand and stared down at it. “When I first touched this...I saw things. Felt things. And suddenly I figured out something I'd really always known, but didn't want to accept.” She closed her eyes. “I feel it everywhere. Just barely. When I fought Kylo Ren...I let go. And it was waiting for me.”

 

“The Force,” Poe supplied.

 

Rey nodded. “For the first time in my life I belong somewhere.” She lifted her head and met Poe's gaze.. “I'm going to find Luke Skywalker. I need to learn more. I...” She glanced away. “I already said goodbye to Finn. I hoped he would wake up but I can't wait any longer.”

 

Poe nodded. “I'm sure he will understand.”

 

“Look after him,” she said softly. “Please.”

 

“Of course,” Poe promised. But he'd promised himself that long ago.

 

“Good.” Rey brushed her hands off on her pants and rose. “Chewbacca and I are heading out soon.” Her lips quirked. It wasn't a smile, but it was close enough. “Thank you for talking to me.”

 

“Wait,” Poe said, scrambling up after her, hand outstretched. She stopped, looking over her shoulder. Poe dropped his hand. “Um. Okay. Do you...like Finn?”

 

Rey's eyebrows shot to her hairline. “Like him?”

 

“Yeah,” Poe said. “As in...as in like him.”

 

“He's my friend. My only friend, really.” She narrowed her eyes. “Why?”

 

“Just wondering.” He smiled to himself. “Cool. Thanks.”

 

“Right...” She analyzed him bemusedly, then a smile broke across her face and she laughed for real. She laughed so hard she doubled over and put her hands on her knees.

 

“What?” Poe demanded, reddening.

 

“Nothing!” Rey wiped her eyes. “Just...just nothing. It's nothing.” She slowly sobered. “Bye, Poe. And you, BB-8.”

 

BB-8 whirred cheerfully. Poe smiled and saluted her. “Bye, Rey.”

 

She walked back through the trees, and after a few moments Poe returned to base, showered, and headed back to Finn's room. With fresh clothes and his worries at ease, he happily dropped into the uncomfortable chair at Finn's bedside. He sat there watching Finn, ruminating Rey's request, and tentatively took Finn's hand in his own.

 

BB-8 beeped. [Friend-Poe!]

 

Poe shushed it. Finn made a soft noise and Poe froze, but Finn fell still again and Poe swallowed, running his thumb back and forth over Finn's knuckles.

 

Sharp footsteps sounded outside in the hall, but Poe had no time to pull away before he was addressed.

 

“Dameron.”

 

Poe let go of his friend's hand and stood. “General Organa,” he greeted.

 

She waved him off and glanced at Finn knowingly. Poe rubbed the back of his neck. She leaned against the doorway and crossed her arms. “How are you?”

 

“Fine.” He rolled his shoulders, as if to stave off his sore muscles. “I mean, as much as I can be.”

 

General Organa nodded. “You preformed well.”

 

“Not well enough,” he said, frowning.

 

“You care about him,” General Organa stated..

 

Poe nodded stiffly. “He's—he's good.”

 

General Organa snorted. “That all?”

 

“He's brave,” Poe added. “Courageous. Nice.” He cut himself off.

 

“Without him, we would have lost you.” General Organa ducked her head to meet Poe's gaze. “I would have lost you.”

 

“I'm sorry, ma'am,” he said.

 

She shook her head and stepped forward, placed a hand on his arm. “You aren't just a pilot, boy. You're more than that. You know that, right?”

 

He blinked. “I...”

 

Finn grunted in bed. Poe whipped toward him. “Finn?” He took Finn's hand again. “Wake up. Come on, buddy.”

 

Finn gasped. He blinked and turned onto his side, toward the weight of Poe's hand, and cried out in pain.

 

“Whoa—hey, there!” Poe gently pushed him back down. “It's okay. You're okay.” Something warm broke loose in his chest and he smiled. “You're alright.”

 

“I'll get the doctors,” General Organa said, and swiftly walked out. BB-8 followed.

 

Finn's chest heaved. He blinked several times. Poe sat on the edge of the bed, one leg stretched out in front of him and the other hanging off the mattress, he and Finn's intertwined hands sitting on his thigh.

 

“I feel like shit,” Finn grunted.

 

Poe barked a laugh. “The worst of it's over. Dude, you got a night in the bacta tank. Pretty badass.”

 

Finn squirmed, face pinched in pain. “My back?” he asked.

 

“Fucked up.” Finn glared at him. “I'm kidding! You got burnt pretty bad, though, but most of your skin grew back in the tank... Your muscles just need time to heal.” Finn blanched at the phrase “grew back.” Poe picked up the cup of water on the tray beside his bed. “Here.”

 

Finn reddened. “Can't really sit up.”

 

“Oh,” Poe said. He shrugged and leaned forward. “Well...”

 

Finn craned his neck up. Poe tipped the cup toward his chapped lips and his eyes fell shut as he drank. When he was finished Poe set the empty cup back on the tray.

 

“Where's Rey?” Finn asked.

 

Poe looked down at Finn's hand, and Finn looked down too as if suddenly becoming aware of Poe's touch. “She left a little while ago, “Poe informed, “to find Luke Skywalker.”

 

Finn looked up at the ceiling. “Oh.”

 

“She was in here all the time,” Poe said. “She was worried about you, she wanted to wait but she couldn't.” Poe squeezed Finn's hand. “She told me you were her only friend.”

 

Finn grinned. “She said that?”

 

Poe smiled back. “She did.”

 

General Organa returned with the doctors, and then there was a flurry of charts and tests and they requested Poe and General Organa to leave, but Finn looked at Poe, eyes wide and scared, and Poe remained by his side. The doctors allowed it. When they finally left—even okayed Finn to leave the infirmary—Finn sagged back onto the mattress. Poe busied himself by grabbing Finn's jacket and pain medication. When he returned to Finn's bedside Finn was shaking.

 

“You alright?” he asked.

 

Finn shrugged. He sat up and covered his face with his hands. “It's weird.”

 

“What is?”

 

“All these...people. Everywhere. On Starkiller I couldn't take my helmet off without permission. I never saw anyone's face. No one talked, unless it was about an objective or whatever.” Finn lowered his hands. “I didn't even have a name. No one did.”

 

“You have one now.” Poe wanted to hold Finn's hand again, but held back now that Finn was more awake, and simply touched his shoulder. “Come on. I'll show you to your room.”

 

They set out, Poe carrying Finn's jacket and meds. He walked slowly so Finn didn't have to exert himself, and it was nice because he'd decided to go outside and cut across the grass to the barracks.

 

“You're right across from me,” he said. “It's supposed to be a pilots-only area, but we don't really have any ex-stormtrooper dorms.”

 

He glanced at Finn, suddenly realizing how much of a jackass he sounded, but Finn was too busy marveling at the sky and mountains and wildflowers. Poe was too nervous to stop talking, so he asked, “It's pretty beautiful, isn't?”

 

“Heck yeah.” Finn knelt down—slowly and stiffly—and picked up a daisy and twirled it between his fingers. “I never left the base until I was promoted, and even then, it was so cold and ugly.”

 

“When were you promoted?” Poe asked.

 

“Couple months ago,” Finn said.

 

Poe swallowed. “You never left before then?”

 

Finn pocketed the flower and they resumed walking. “Yeah. I mean, it was enormous so you didn't exactly get claustrophobic, and there were giant windows so I could see outside, and there were training yards all around the place, but... I never got over the other side of the fence.”

 

Poe pondered that for a moment. Rey may have lived on dry, desolate Jakku, but at least it wasn't a cage. Suddenly an idea struck him. “When you get better, I'll take you out.”

 

Finn looked at him, puzzled.

 

Poe ducked his head. “I mean—I'll take you on a walk. Show you around the forest. And mountains and all.” He elbowed Finn gently. “When I was still a cadet, like sixteen, me and the other kids would sneak off after training to these swimming holes, try to make it back before dinner.” He shook his head. “Once we were late, and General Organa made us tell her where we were. I'm pretty sure she used the Force. Anyways, we had to clean the bathrooms with toothbrushes.”

 

Finn laughed. “Was it worth it?”

 

Poe snickered. “Definitely. There was this sick as hell rope swing somebody'd tied up. Once I nearly busted my head because I let go too soon by mistake.”

 

Finn glanced away. “I've never swam.”

 

“What! Man. That's it. I'm taking you there pronto.” They hit asphalt, and soon Poe opened the door to the barracks. The hallway was nice and cool, with gray walls and a smooth floor. Poe stopped at the end of the hall and fished a key out of his pocket and handed it to Finn. “Here you go.”

 

They stood in between the two parallel doors. Finn said “Thanks,” unlocked his room, and stepped inside. “Whoa.”

 

Poe walked in after him. “Pretty standard, but it works.”

 

“Standard?!” Finn marveled at the kitchenette, then the desk, then the bed. Each dorm was one large room with basic utilities and shelving for personal items, and each floor had communal showers. “Man, the place I lived in on Starkiller was a freakin' shoebox compared to this.”

 

“Glad you like it.” Poe set the jacket and bottle of medicine and tube of ointment down on the bed. Finn was yanking the blinds up on the windows, smiling brightly at the view of the mountains from this angle, but then he looked around as if something was missing. “Where's BB-8?”

 

“He disappears sometimes,” Poe said. “Actually, a lot of the time. It's no big deal. He finds me eventually.” He stepped away from Finn's bed. “I'll be right back.”

 

He went to his room—which was suddenly ten times messier after having seen the untouched condition of Finn's—and rifled around his closet for a pair of sweats and jeans and a t-shirt. He returned to Finn's room and began hanging them up in Finn's closet. Finn walked up to him and frowned. “What's all that?”

 

“You'll get some clothes and stuff soon, but I figured tomorrow you might wanna change.” Poe finished and turned around, hands on his hips. “Got ya some nice jammies too.”

 

Finn reached out and touched the sweatpants. They were a soft navy blue cotton. “I think I already have enough of your clothes.”

 

Poe smirked. “I have a great sense of style; consider it a favor.”

 

Finn turned to him. “Thank you so much.”

 

Poe swallowed, palms sweaty. “Don't mention it.”

 

“No, really,” Finn insisted. “I—I really don't know where I'd be without you. Not just now. But before. You saved me.” He took a step forward and wrapped his arms around Poe, despite the hiss of pain he failed to conceal. Poe gently laid his hands against Finn's broad back, just standing there for a moment and absorbing the other man's warmth and gratitude.

 

“You're welcome,” he said. “Really.”

 

“Why are you doing all of this?” Finn asked, pulling away.

 

Poe reluctantly held Finn's elbows for a second, then let his hands fall to his sides. “You're a good guy.” He wanted to say so much more, but he didn't want to freak Finn out. This was moving so fast—whatever it was between them—and he didn't want to ruin it by acting without thinking. As he tends to do.

 

“Well, so are you,” Finn said.

 

Then the moment was shattered with drunken yelling down the hall. “Shit,” Poe cursed.

 

Finn turned, laughing. “Who's that?”

 

“Other pilots. A lot of us, uh, tend to celebrate pretty thoroughly, you could say.” Poe walked to Finn's door, one hand pressed against the frame. “Hey, jackasses, keep it down!” he called.

 

“Dameron! Poe Dameron!” It was Tyler, a pilot who wasn't in Poe's squadron but one Poe kind of knew. “Man, you animal!” He made exaggerated explosion sound effects and waved his hands around. “Man, that was crazy!”

 

“I was there, buddy, I know! Get in bed.”

 

Tyler whined but complied, his pals pouring into his dorm with him. Once the door was shut most of their ruckus was muffled. Poe shook his head and sent an apologetic glance to Finn. “Sorry.”

 

“It's fine.” Finn sat down on his bed and examined his medication.

 

“I'd wait to take that,” Poe warned, “it'll knock you out in an instant.”

 

“Oh, thanks.” Finn set the bottle back down.

 

Poe stood there for a moment, unsure of what to say. “I'm, like, across the hall. If you need anything.”

 

Finn laid down on the bed. “I'll probably just sleep for a bit. I'm tired as hell still.”

 

Poe nodded. “Alright.” He paused and watched Finn kick off his shoes, grimace at his sensitive back. Then he forced himself to say goodbye, unglued his feet from the floor, and shut Finn's door behind him. Tyler started playing music down the hall. Poe briefly considered going to unwind a bit himself, but wanted to stay near Finn. So he went into his room and opened his window and smoked another cigarette instead. The sun was setting, and the daises in the grass glowed orange.

 


	2. Chapter 2

Finn knocked much sooner than Poe anticipated, only about an hour later. Poe left his desk, dressed in a loose shirt and baggy pants he had to roll up on his hips, and opened his door. Finn grinned nervously, dressed in Poe's shirt and sweatpants. “Hey.”

 

“Hey.” Poe pocketed his hands. “What's up?”

 

“Uh, my back...”

 

Poe frowned. “Are you okay?”

 

“Yeah—it's just—” Finn awkwardly held out the bottle of ointment. “Can't reach.”

 

“Oh. Right.” Finn's door was shut behind him, so Poe stepped aside and jerked his head. “Come in.”

 

Finn shuffled in and looked around Poe's humble abode. Clothes were strewn everywhere, along with piloting books and X-wing maintenance manuals. Above his desk were clippings of articles and essays on Luke Skywalker and Wedge Antilles and their elite Red Squadron. Poe reddened when Finn leaned forward to read some of the pages.

 

“Sorry about the mess,” he said loudly.

 

Finn looked up. “'S fine.” He smirked. “You a Skywalker fan?”

 

“Well, of course. The entire Resistance is. But, you know, he's more of a Jedi than a pilot at the end of the day...” Poe scratched his jaw. “Wedge Antilles, though—he's a legend. Him and Skywalker started the Red Squadron. They saved Hoth and destroyed the second Death Star, and Antilles lead it all.” He cleared his throat. “So, yeah.”

 

Finn snorted. “I have no idea what any of that meant.”

 

“They're awesome, and that's all you need to know.” And they were also kind of extremely hot back in their prime, and when Poe was still training he was especially obsessed with Antilles, but he kept that to himself.

 

He moved to close his window, but Finn stopped him. “Keep it open. It's nice.”

 

Poe paused, remembering what Finn had said about living on Starkiller, and smiled. “Okay.” Bugs chirped and the wind quietly stirred leaves outside. A draft wound around the room, but Poe just pulled on a hoodie. Finn seemed unaffected; he must be, after growing up on the First Order arctic, inside the cold metal and cement.

 

He gestured for Finn to sit down at his desk and Finn straddled the chair, chest flush against the back. Poe took the ointment from him. When he began to slowly lift up Finn's shirt Finn's breath hitched and he stopped. “What's wrong?”

 

“Nothing. Just...” Finn sighed angrily. Poe lowered his shirt and waited patiently. Finn didn't look back. “Can I tell you something?”

 

“Of course,” Poe said.

 

Finn paused. “They gave us pills. Injections and stuff. To make us as strong as possible. Beef us up and whatever. They gave 'em to everyone, boys and girls. Started at puberty.”

 

Poe furrowed his brow. “Doesn't sound too healthy.”

 

“Well... I exercised. Ran. All part of the training. But, like... that wasn't all. Part of it was the shit they pump into you, you know? So, um...like, that's why I look like this. And talk like this.” Finn chewed his lip.

 

“You sound normal to me,” Poe said.

 

Finn's shoulders stiffened. “For a guy. Fuck, man—how do I even—” He swiveled around and inhaled sharply. “I was born a girl. But I'm a man. And you called me Finn, and it stuck, and I don't want it to be a big deal, I shouldn't have even said anything, it's just, like, you were lifting my shirt up and I got nervous and—”

 

Poe lifted his hands. “Whoa. Hey. It's okay.” He sat down across from Finn on his bed, wondering how to go about this in a way that wouldn't melt Finn's brain. “You're transgender,” he said slowly. “At least, that's what it sounds like.”

 

Finn blinked. “I'm what?”

 

“Transgender. Like, as in trans-por-tation. Transition. Into another gender. The old switcharoo.” Poe circled his hands around each other for emphasis. “That's what it's called.”

 

Finn nodded confusedly. “Okay.”

 

“It's not weird,” Poe assured him. “Like, at all.” He took in a deep breath. “I am too.”

 

Finn's eyes widened. “You are? You're...”

 

“Go on,” Poe encouraged with a grin, “you're gonna have to say it.”

 

“Transgender.” Finn grimaced as if the word tasted bad in his mouth. Maybe it did. Who knew how bad the First Order had brainwashed him. Poe wanted to protect Finn, shield him. Or maybe blow up another planet. He already got one out of the way, but another wouldn't hurt. Finn repeated himself: “You're transgender.” He looked at Poe imploringly.

 

Poe ran a hand through his hair. “I was born a girl, like you. Except I definitely didn't feel that way. I always felt a little weird. Always played around and got hurt and dirty and into stuff and stole my pop's clothes and tried 'em on when I was alone. It only really kicked in when I was a teenager.” He scowled at the memory. “Puberty and shit. Broke down sobbing in front of my parents one day when they asked me what had been bothering me. They were so nice about it, I felt like an idiot. Anyways, I started hormones, cut my boobs off, and now,” he grinned and swung his hands away from himself, “I am the beautiful man you see before you.”

 

“Is it really that easy?” Finn asked.

 

“No,” Poe said. “But nothing is. Right?”

 

Finn nodded. “Right.”

 

Poe stood up and retrieved the ointment. “It doesn't make a difference to me. I won't tell anyone, and if you need to talk I'm here. If you don't want to, that's okay too. Whatever you want.” He held Finn's gaze. “You're just Finn to me. Just Finn. Okay?”

 

“Okay,” Finn replied, smiling.

 

Poe felt proud to have cheered him up. Finn turned the chair back around and Poe lifted his shirt again, up to his shoulders. Finn kept it bunched up in the front, though Poe couldn't see anything. He gently undid the bandages wrapped around Finn's torso and whistled at the two thick slashes of blistered skin running down Finn's back, jagged and purple. “That must hurt like hell.”

 

“The meds helped,” Finn mumbled. His head was nestled atop his arms on the back of the chair.

 

“Good.” Poe squeezed ointment onto his fingers. “Tell me if it hurts.”

 

“Mmhmm.”

 

Poe grazed his hand over Finn's injuries. Finn didn't tense up, so he applied a little more pressure, gently rubbing the ointment in. The blisters were hot and crusty, reverberating heat. Finn grunted as Poe moved to a particularly nasty spot. “Almost done, buddy,” Poe said, moving to the next gash. He added another layer just to be safe, and folded the hem Finn's shirt so it wouldn't fall down. “Just give it some air for a bit.”

 

Finn burrowed his head into the crook of his arm. “It's, like, numbing it. Feels good.”

 

“Why don't you lay on my bed?” Poe said.

 

“Huh?” Finn lifted his head.

 

“Yeah. I don't care.”

 

“Mkay.”

 

The pain meds must've been getting to him, because Finn dropped face first into the mattress without another word. Poe rinsed his hands off at the sink, then sank into his desk chair. It was warm from Finn. He pulled a leg up to his chest and set his chin on his knee and listened to the sounds from outside. It was nice and quiet and soon Finn's breath evened out and he was asleep. Poe felt creepy watching him, so he turned back to his desk and began writing a mission report. This one was going to be monstrous; as much as Poe loved being a pilot, the paperwork was awful.

 

He hammered it out anyways. When he was finally done his analog clock told him it was half past midnight. The temperature had dropped considerably, but Poe thought of how much Finn liked the window open and grabbed an extra blanket. He maneuvered himself over Finn and laid down with his back pressed up against the wall, keeping a considerable amount of space between himself and his friend. Finn's back already looked better, less puffy and irritated. Poe reached over and tugged Finn's shirt down. It looked like it was a size too small, because it laid taut across his shoulders. Poe let his hand rest on Finn's back and then cradled it to his chest. He was getting ahead of himself again. He turned around so he was facing the wall, closed his eyes, and fell asleep to the lull of Finn's breathing.

 

~

 

Poe woke up to his alarm and groaned. He flung his arm out to shut it off, but there was a hard, warm mass where his clock usually was.

 

“Poe?”

 

Poe's eyes flew open. He sat up and threw his blanket off. “Shit!” He walked to his desk and hit the off button on his alarm. Finn sat up confusedly.

 

“Sorry,” Poe apologized in a stage whisper—for what, he didn't know. “You fell asleep. I didn't wanna wake you up.”

 

“It's okay. I should be saying sorry.” Finn twisted his head and his neck cracked. “This is your room.”

 

“I don't mind,” Poe said. “Sleepovers are awesome.” He glanced at his clock. “It's, like, five in the morning. You can go back to bed.” It occurred to him he probably should have said 'your room.'

 

“Nah,” Finn dismissed. “I got less sleep on Starkiller.” He rotated his arms and winced.

 

Poe walked to his kitchenette. His kafmaker was broken, so he got two glasses of water and protein bars. He sat down at his desk while Finn remained in bed.

 

Poe wolfed down his protein bar while Finn unwrapped his and sectioned it into pieces, eating them individually. Finn swallowed. “Tell me more about the forest.”

 

“The forest...” Poe laced his hands behind his head. “Well, we got a lot of 'em.”

 

Finn snorted. “Uh-huh.”

 

“Sometimes there's so many leaves, it gets dark. Can't see the sky. And then sometimes there's clearings, and it's pretty. Then there's the lake. It's gorgeous. The fish freak me out, though.”

 

Finn laughed. “Really?”

 

Poe frowned. “Yeah. You can't see them half the time. They sneak up on you and eat your feet off.”

 

“I don't know if that actually happens.”

 

Poe wagged his finger. “You're going to find out when we go swimming, and you'll regret not believing me.”

 

Finn perked up. “You really meant that?”

 

“Of course,” Poe said. “Maybe we'll even fly out a little.”

 

Finn's smile widened. “Really?”

 

Poe laughed. “Yes! Why do you always ask that?”

 

“What do you mean?” Finn's smile faded away.

 

“It's just...” Poe lowered his hands to his knees. “It seems like you never believe me when I say something nice. Or give something to you. Like when I let you keep my jacket.”

 

Finn shrugged. “I've never had anyone treat me like that before.” He looked out the window. The sky was still dark. “I've never had anyone give me anything before.”

 

“Oh,” Poe said.

 

Finn stood. “I should go back to my room.”

 

“Okay.” Poe followed him to the door.

 

Finn looked at him for a moment.

 

“Was that a douchey thing for me to say?” Poe asked.

 

“A little.” Finn turned around, entered his room, and shut his door.

 

Poe thumped his head against his door. Then did it again. And again. Then he changed, grabbed his report, and left the barracks and cut across the grass like always. He entered the tactician room and sure enough, General Organa was tapping away at one of the massive computer bays.

 

“Dameron,” she greeted, briefly looking up from the screen.

 

“General.” He fell into the chair beside her. “What's up?”

 

She glared at him, then sighed. “Same old bullshit.”

 

Poe snorted. Then he observed the general. His general. His leader. She was worn and tired and had bags under her eyes. Her bun was coming undone, frazzled strands of hair framing her face. “You okay?” he asked.

 

“It's inappropriate to talk about my own problems with you,” she immediately replied.

 

“Oh, come on.” He nudged her shoulder. “I'm, like, your best friend.”

 

“That's arguable,” she muttered.

 

“I can make matching bracelets if you want. To really seal the deal.”

 

“I'm afraid there's no deal to be sealed.”

 

Poe straightened in his seat. “Han Solo's dead.”

 

General Organa whirled toward him, but said nothing. Her throat bobbed with words unspoken. “I know that,” she finally said.

 

“Tell me about it,” Poe said.

 

“No.” She turned back to the computer. “I'm busy. I can't.”

 

“Can't grieve?” Poe asked.

 

“You're a child. I'm an adult.”

 

“No,” Poe said, reaching over to shut the screen off, “I was a child when you found me crying in my burning house next to my dead father.” He leaned forward in his seat and took General Organa's hands. “I was a child when you took me onto your ship and gave me food and clothes. I was a child when I told you I wanted to stay and become a pilot and you asked me why and I said because the First Order killed my family. But I'm not a child anymore. I'm an adult, and I'm your friend, and you need to talk to someone, so it might as well be me.” He grinned. “I won't stop calling you General, though, because that'd be too weird.”

 

General Organa pursed her lips. Then she looked down at their clasped hands. “I felt it. When he died. Like my body was torn apart. Even...even when he was gone, I still felt him, somewhere in the Force. Like a lighthouse. He was Corellian, you know. When I tried explaining it to him, how I could feel him and Luke in the Force, he said, 'So it's a lighthouse. It guides you home when you're out at sea.' And he was right.” She closed her eyes. “But it's gone now. It's gone.”

 

She didn't cry. She just sat there. Poe had never seen General Organa cry, and she wasn't crying now, and he admired her strength for the umpteenth time since he had met her in the wreckage of his childhood.

 

“It's my fault,” she said. “I told him to go see Ben.”

 

Poe frowned. “Ben?”

 

She opened her eyes. “Our son. Kylo Ren. Ben is his real name, and he is my son.”

 

Poe's stomach bottomed out. He was suddenly cold and empty. “How?” he asked, unsure of what he wanted to know.

 

“The Dark side got to him before we even knew,” General Organa began. “Luke tried everything he could to save him, but nothing worked. He slaughtered—” She stopped as if it pained her to speak. “...He killed all of Luke's students. My son almost killed my brother.”

 

She fell silent. Her shoulders slumped. Poe squeezed her hands. “None of that is your fault. If...if it was the Force, you can't stop that. No one can. Not even Luke Skywalker. It's Kylo—it's Ben's choice.”

 

 

“I was supposed to raise him to make the right decision,” General Organa said.

 

Poe shook his head. “You can't think like that. Parents can't do that. If that were true, Luke Skywalker wouldn't have won against Darth Vader.” Poe stopped and amended himself: “Your father. He wanted to bring Luke to the Dark side, but Luke chose not to... Ben will have to choose too. No matter what.”

 

“He already has,” she said.

 

“Finn was there,” Poe suddenly remembered. “He can tell you what happened.”

 

General Organa nodded. “Okay. I'll speak to him.” She pulled away from Poe and turned the computer screen back on. Poe felt exhausted after all the emotional turmoil. He marveled at how General Organa could go back to work, how she could still breathe and carry on with the entire Resistance on her shoulders.. But he'd already gotten her to talk to him—he didn't want to push it and demand she get some rest, too. It'd be futile anyway. The woman probably dreamt in battle strategies and diplomatic issues.

 

So he stood, set his report beside her, and touched her shoulder. She patted his hand without looking up from the screen. “Get out of my sight, Dameron.”

 

Poe smiled. “Yes, ma'am.”

 

As he walked back across the lawn the sun began to rise over the mountains, bright and beautiful and warm. Poe pushed his sleeves up and slowed to a stop. He stood in the dewy grass, felt it brush against his calves with the early morning breeze. When he looked down he saw a handful of daisies swaying at his feet and bent down to pick them up.

 

Back in the barracks, he shifted from foot to foot in front of Finn's door before hesitantly knocking. “Finn, buddy? You up?”

 

There was some shuffling, and then the door opened. Finn was wearing Poe's shirt and jeans. He crossed his arms. “What's up?”

 

Poe stuck the daisies out in front of him. “I'm sorry about what I said. I kind of talk a lot. Especially when I'm nervous. I say stupid shit at least five hundred times a day.”

 

“I've noticed,” Finn quipped. Then he frowned. “You're nervous around me?”

 

“No. Not like that.” Poe paused and glanced at the daisies. Finn slowly lifted his hand and took them. The stems were a little bit crushed. Poe said, “I just wanted to make sure you know that, like...you deserve stuff.”

 

Finn nodded jerkily, staring at the flowers.

 

“I mean it,” Poe emphasized. Finn looked up. “I never thanked you.” He swallowed. “If it wasn't for you, I'd have just gotten tortured again.” His temple throbbed at the memory and he tried to hide his grimace. “I would've died. I'd have killed myself before I let them get any information. But it didn't come to that—because of you.” Poe took in a deep breath. “All I'm saying is...thanks. You saved my life, too. And Rey's. And the entire Resistance. And because of that, you deserve things.”

 

He stopped before he'd barrel onto something else, something more intimate, and Finn kept blinking at the daisies, and Poe realized he was starting to cry. “Hey, it's okay, buddy,” he said and gently brought his hands to Finn's shoulders and backed him into the room and shut the door. Finn just kind of stood there silently, so Poe took the flowers from him and trimmed the stems and put them in a glass of water. He set the glass on the windowsill. The sun shone through the glass and reflected off the wall.

 

“I'm sorry,” Finn suddenly said thickly. He wiped his eyes.

 

“It's fine, really,” Poe assured, remaining by the window, giving Finn his space.

 

Finn inhaled shakily. “I can't handle any of this.”

 

“Handle what?” Poe asked.

 

“All of it.” Finn laughed shortly. “The people, this place, having...friends.” He ran a hand over his hair. “I was raised to kill. I couldn't even do that. And now I can't even—can't even be grateful for everything everyone has done for me.” He gasped in another breath and squeezed his eyes shut.

 

Poe closed the space between them, put his hands on Finn's shoulders again. “Dude, you're mad because you couldn't be a stormtrooper? That just means you're a good person. And, okay, it's understandable why you're freaked out. This is all new, yeah? It'll just take some getting used to. It doesn't mean you're a bad person. Or a failure. Okay?”

 

“Sure,” Finn mumbled.

 

Poe nudged his chin up. “Look at me, jackass. Say it.”

 

“Say what?”

 

“'I'm not a failure.'”

 

Finn paused, unsure. Then he said, quietly, “I'm not a failure.”

 

Poe narrowed his eyes. “What was that?”

 

Finn grinned. “I'm not a failure.”

 

“One more time!”

 

Finn laughed. “I'm not a failure!”

 

Poe squeezed his shoulders. “Good.”

 

They fell silent, staring at each other, and the sun was warm on Poe's neck as it shone around Finn like a halo. And Poe thought that something was happening. Something big that went through his entire body. He jerked away, stepping back, trying to not let himself believe that Finn's face flashed with disappointment.

 

“Anyway,” he said brusquely. “Breakfast is in the mess hall. I think today it's ham and eggs.”

 

“If it's better than that bar you gave me, I'm in,” Finn said, walking to the door.

 

Poe blinked, then beamed and jogged out to the hallway and bumped Finn's shoulder. “Shut the hell up.”

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was too excited to not post this tonight; I was going to wait until tomorrow. I'm still not sure if I like it though. 
> 
> (Realized halfway through writing this fic that I'd totally forgotten about Poe's parents so I tried to shoehorn them in here, but since it wasn't touched on in the movie I'm not too worried. Also I couldn't rake through my Star Wars trivia arsenal to find an analogy more fitting than lamb/wolf stuff, I'm so ashamed.}

The next few weeks passed by uneventfully. Finn entered a physical therapy regime to get his back worked out, and Poe went on a few simple missions which included battlefield cleanup and scouting. Professionalism took over the second he hopped into the X-wing cockpit, but he couldn't help thinking about Finn whenever he landed back at the Resistance hangar. One day, when he was particularly haggard after seeing the traumatized residents of a ransacked village, he went straight to the training room where he knew Finn exercised.

 

Finn was there, dressed in loose shorts and a tank top, sparring with one of the ground infantrymen. Poe leaned against the wall, watching, the top half of his flightsuit tied around his waist, revealing a black t-shirt. Finn evaded a swing from the infantryman and jabbed his side, securing enough recoil time to grab his shoulder and force him onto the mat. Poe clapped slowly. Finn looked up, dripping with sweat, and grinned. “Hey.”

 

The infantryman rolled out from underneath him and rubbed his shoulder. “Well, you're definitely improving.”

 

“I'd say,” Poe commented. He jutted his chin. “Probably not good enough to beat me, yet, though.”

 

Finn set his hands on his hips. “You're a pilot.”

 

“Doesn't mean I don't got game.” Poe tightened his knotted sleeves and unlaced his boots. “Wanna go?”

 

The infantryman looked between them. “An ex-stormtrooper and the Resistance's best pilot? I'm watching.” He walked off the mat and dropped down against the wall, a bottle of water beside him.

 

“Good,” Poe said. “We'll have a witness in case you cheat, Finn.”

 

“Me?” Finn shook his head. “Real funny.”

 

Poe stepped onto the mat. He shifted his feet and beckoned Finn forward. “I don't have all day.”

 

Finn, surprisingly, advanced first. Poe stayed light, dancing to the side. Finn pivoted swiftly and striked before Poe could even blink, a sharp jab in the side. Finn grinned. Poe shuffled back, feinted left, and rolled. He popped up behind Finn and elbowed him in the back. Finn fell and groaned, face twisted in pain. Poe dropped his fists and bent down. “Shit, man, I'm sorry—”

 

Finn lashed out and brought Poe down by his neck, rolled on top of him and held his arms down and grinned cheekily.

 

Poe pouted. “Fuckin' cheater.”

 

“Stormtroopers play dirty, boy,” Finn said.

 

Poe bucked him off and jumped up. Sweat was beginning to pool on his back. “Alright. No holding back, then.”

 

“Fine by me,” Finn agreed.

 

They circled each other for a bit, swinging out occasionally, testing each other. Poe thought about Finn's fighting style: it was all brute force and strength. He remembered what Finn had said— _“Part of it was the shit they pump into you, you know?”_ The First Order prioritized brawn. The Resistance prioritized innovation, agility. Finn would be able to stop anything Poe tried with his strength, unless Poe got him vulnerable and compromised with some kind of trick.

 

He danced back on the mat. Finn followed his every step.  _Think, Dameron_ , he urged himself. He needed Finn to see he wasn't just a pilot. Maybe he needed himself to see that, too. 

 

He lunged forward, feinted left again, but instead of rolling he hopped to the right, twisted Finn's arm around, and kneed his back, forcing Finn onto his knees. Finn looked over his shoulder, smiling. “One to one.”

 

Poe dropped his arm and helped him up. “Again?”

 

Eventually the infantryman watching them left, shaking his head at their endurance and competitiveness. Poe's body burned; his lungs heaved; his throat dried up. Sweat started dripping into his eyes. Finn was in the same condition, panting but not backing down.

 

“Did they teach you anything at stormtrooper school?” Poe asked, flipping his bangs out of his face. “Old Phasma would be so disappointed!”

 

Then something in Finn shifted. His face blanked. He threw himself at Poe. Poe hit the mat and grunted; Finn put his knees on Poe's chest and Poe gasped. “Okay—okay, Finn—you win!”

 

But Finn didn't let up. He dug his knees in harder, even clasped his hands around Poe's throat. Poe dug his nails into Finn's wrists, and only when he felt the wet draw of blood did Finn blink hurriedly, let go of him, and scramble away. He shoved himself into the corner of the room, knees drawn up to his chest, head down. Poe sat up and slowly crawled toward him. “Finn, it's okay—”

 

“Get out!” Finn ordered, curling into himself even further. “Just go.”

 

Poe sat against the wall, keeping a foot of space between them. “No.” He looked at Finn's wrists, the beads of blood ready to fall. “I shouldn't have said her name. I'm sorry. It's my fault.”

 

Finn shook his head. “I hurt you.”

 

Poe rubbed his neck. It was red and sore. “I'll be fine.” His head lolled back. The training room had a wall of windows facing north, toward the mountains. A few birds were flying far away. “What happened?”

 

“I don't want to talk about it.”

 

“Okay.” Poe bit his lip. “That's okay.” He turned toward Finn. “I'm so sorry. I keep saying the dumbest shit.” He couldn't even stop talking now, and helplessly repeated himself. “I'm sorry, Finn.”

 

“I wasn't that good,” Finn muttered, obviously stuck in some other time and place. Poe straightened raptly. “Not at first. I was scared. I was just a kid. I didn't want to fight. The trainers, sometimes they shocked us if we were too slow. They'd say 'Captain Phasma will be disappointed.' They had these sticks... I got better. I fought so they'd stop shocking me.”

 

Poe exhaled through his nose. He closed his eyes, picturing a little boy crying and being electrocuted by stormtroopers. A little boy named FN-2187. Poe fisted his hands in his lap. “You aren't there anymore,” he promised.

 

“I don't know,” Finn whispered. “Sometimes I think I'll wake up back on Starkiller, and this is all a dream.”

 

Poe moved so he sat in front of Finn. Finn lifted his head after a moment. He was crying again, silent and still, tears streaming down his immovable face. It was the kind of crying you only learned through necessity, when you had to hide your fear and sadness and shame. Poe placed his hands on Finn's arms. “I swear on my life I won't let you go back there,” Poe declared. “I'll die before they get to you. I will. I've already been tortured by Kylo Ren. I'm not scared of them. But you are.”

 

“I'm pathetic,” Finn spat.

 

“You're not!” Poe squeezed his arms. “You're hurt. You're scared. That's okay. Look at me, Finn.” Finn obliged. “You're allowed to feel those things. Fear makes us better. You have to be so scared you become strong enough to beat 'em.”

 

Finn slowly uncurled, letting his hands drop to the floor, then his legs. He sagged against the wall. Poe moved next to him, let Finn lean against his side.

 

“What are you scared of?” Finn asked.

 

“Losing you,” Poe said. He quickly added: “Losing everyone. Losing this base. BB-8. My X-wing.” He wound his arm around Finn's shoulders. “My mom was sick and died when I was younger. Then my dad was killed in an attack I wasn't able to protect them. So I became strong enough to protect others.” Poe shrugged. “I got caught up in it.” He was mostly talking ot himself now. “I guess...I guess I'm in it for the greater good, and all that shit now. Protecting the Resistance. My parents' names.”

 

Finn nodded, then lowered his head back onto Poe's shoulder. They remained there for a long time, not speaking, looking out the window at the mountains and birds. Poe's side became numb and he didn't move.

 

Eventually Finn asked, “How was your mission?” His voice echoed through the empty room.

 

Poe thumped his head against the wall. “Rough.”

 

Finn pulled away. “Are you hurt?”

 

“No. Get back here, man.” Poe pulled him back to his side and sighed. “Just...went to a village. You know. Scouting stuff. There were reports of attacks, but all the bastards pulled out already, so we just talked to the villagers. A lot of people died.” He trailed off. “Reminds me of my parents.”

 

Finn stood. “Let's go.”

 

Poe frowned, looking up at him. “What?”

 

“Come on.” Finn held his hand out. “Let's go for a walk. Get outta here.”

 

“Okay...” Poe took Finn's hand. Finn pulled him up and lead him out of the training room. His hand was warm, strong, comforting—even if Finn had just choked Poe. When he let go of Poe's hand in the hallway Poe ignored his sense of loss.

 

They were both disgustingly sweaty, but neither of them suggested taking a shower and changing. They walked past the barracks and into the forest. Finn lead, even though Poe knew the area better, taking trails worn down by the late night excursions of past cadets. The breeze was nice, cool against their hot and bruised skin. Poe kept touching his neck. Finn didn't notice.

 

They stopped at the edge of the lake. On the other side of the bank were several animals behind the trees. Finn watched them, mesmerized. Poe sat down in the grass, unzipped one of the many pockets of his flightsuit, and pulled out his cigarettes. Finn turned at the the flick of the lighter.

 

“Sorry,” Poe mumbled, holding the cigarette away.

 

“It's fine.” The animals disappeared into the trees and Finn sat down beside Poe. “The higher ups would sneak in all sorts of things back into base. Some of it would trickle down to the grunts. We'd play poker and bet cigarettes and candy. I never smoked, though.”

 

Poe lifted an eyebrow. “Wait. Candy?”

 

Finn nodded, smiling. “The Order's pretty cheap. We had this stuff, nutraloaf and hardtack and weird protein drinks, and that was it. Candy was huge.” Finn closed his eyes. “Man, the first time I had chocolate I nearly cried. No joke.”

 

“Wow.” The candid way Finn talked about his past, so easy and normal because it was all he'd ever known, struck Poe deeply. “We can go to the markets sometime. There's tons of stuff there. You ever have a chocolate shake?”

 

Finn shook his head. “What is it?”

 

Poe balked. “What is it? It's the best thing in the universe. It's like...ice cream but you drink it.” At Finn's blank stare, Poe sighed in mock exasperation. “You've never had ice cream, either, have you?”

 

“Nope,” Finn confirmed.

 

Poe took a drag off his cigarette and exhaled. “Guess we'll have ourselves a feast. There's this joint in town that has the greasiest stuff you could ever imagine. It's delicious.”

 

His offer was beginning to sound a lot like a date, but Finn nodded thoughtfully, unable to connect that dots. “Cool.”

 

It was a little bit sad, but Poe was glad at the same time. He needed to figure out his feelings. Finn was kind of like a lamb, Poe reasoned, finally away from the wolf pack. All lost and confused. Poe was his shepherd, and he was gonna be a damn good shepherd, too. Give Finn the best grass and barn and whatever.

 

Poe let his cigarette hang between his lips. “Alright. First lesson in normal humanoid behavior: how to skip rocks.” He stood up and took off his boots and fished around for a smooth stone in the water. Once he found one he brought back to Finn. “See this? Run your hand over it.” Finn did. “It's nice and smooth and even.” Poe held the rock between his thumb and forefinger. “You hold it like this, okay? Then you pull back and snap your wrist. Like that. Watch.”

 

He walked to the shore of the lake and tossed the stone. It skipped three times before plopping into the water. He took his cigarette out of his mouth and turned around.

 

Finn was smiling like a little kid. “Whoa!”

 

Poe laughed. He found a rock for Finn and beckoned him over. “Come on. You try.”

 

Finn took off his shoes and strode toward him, pausing for a moment once his feet entered the clear water. Poe handed him the rock, positioned his fingers, and stepped back. “Okay.”

 

Finn threw the rock, bringing his whole arm down. It arched high in the air, then dropped into the water with an anti-climatic splash. Finn groaned.

 

“Relax, hoss,” Poe laughed, sitting down on a large boulder. “Find another one.”

 

He finished his cigarette as Finn continued to practice. Occasionally Finn would find stones and slip them into his pocket. Poe thought it was cute but said nothing, making a mental note: Finn likes flowers and rocks. Maybe he should get a terrarium for the guy. Or flower pots.

 

Eventually Finn got the hang of it and and they had a rock skipping contest. Poe won each round, but Finn was quickly improving.

 

Poe sighed dramatically, pushing his hair back. “I can fly better than you, beat your ass, and skip rocks. You're never catching up to me, Finn.”

 

“Fuck off.” Finn kicked water up at Poe and chuckled. Poe shrieked and stumbled back, fell into the shallow water with a splash.

 

“Asshole!” Poe picked up a glob of moss and chucked it at Finn. Finn dodged and kept smacking huge amounts of water at Poe while Poe found leaves and pebbles and sticks to throw back. Before they knew it the sky was beginning to purple.

 

“Should we go back?” Finn asked, soaked head to toe.

 

Poe shrugged out of his sopping wet flightsuit and pulled a lightsick out of a pocket. “One sec.” He smacked the stick against his thigh a couple times and it began to glow brightly, then let it and his flightsuit hang off of a low tree branch. “There. Check me out. Always prepared.”

 

“Impressive,” Finn agreed in a placating tone.

 

Poe snickered. “Screw you.”

 

They sat down on the boulder warm from the sun's leftover heat, knees touching.

 

“Okay,” Poe said. “Truth or dare?”

 

Finn sighed heavily. “Truth, I guess.”

 

“Have you ever done it?” Poe asked as casually as possible.

 

Finn blinked. “Like...?”

 

“Sex,” Poe clarified.

 

“Oh. No.”

 

Poe nodded, unsurprised. “Alright. Your turn.”

 

Finn grinned. “Truth or dare?”

 

“Truth,” Poe chose.

 

“Have _you_ 'done it'?” Finn made quotation marks for emphasis.

 

“Oh, you beautiful, naive boy.” Poe rubbed his jaw. “Yeah, a lot. A long time ago.”

 

Finn paused. “Oh. Do you...do you do it anymore?”

 

Poe shook his head. “I grew up. It was pretty stupid.”

 

Finn cocked his head. “What do you mean?”

 

“You've had way too many questions.” Poe smirked. “Truth or dare?”

 

Finn lifted his chin. “Dare.”

 

“Hmm.” Poe looked around. He pointed to a ledge across the lake, about ten feet up from the surface of the water, covered in moss and tangled with ancient tree roots. “Go jump off of that.”

 

“I told you, I can't swim,” Finn reminded.

 

“Oh. Shit.” Poe paused. “What if I was there?”

 

“Seriously?”

 

“Yeah.” Poe stood up. “Come on, don't be a baby. The perfect way to learn how to swim is by drowning.”

 

“I don't think that's right,” Finn replied, but got up anyways.

 

Poe waded into the water, black pants rolled up to his knees. “Just walk along the side of the lake. You'll get there.” He held Finn's gaze. “Trust me. It'll be fun.”

 

Finn stood, thinking. Then he smiled. “I'm gonna regret this.”

 

“Most likely.” Poe shooed him away. “Get going.”

 

Once Finn started walking Poe swam out to the other side of the lake. It was deep and cold and dark emerald-blue. He tried to not think about the fish lurking in its depths while he tread, and instead listened for Finn's footsteps. A few minutes later Finn's head poked out from the edge of the outcropping.

 

“Alright!” Poe shouted. “Just—jump!”

 

“What're you gonna do?” Finn asked. “Catch me? You can't!”

 

“We'll figure it out as we go!”

 

“As we go? Man, we only got five seconds to decide!”

 

“Just do it, Finn!” Poe yelled.

 

“Ugh! I hate you, you know...”

 

Finn's head disappeared. Then he was vaulting over the side of the ledge, flailing and shouting, and crashed into the lake behind Poe. Poe ducked underwater and swam toward the sound of Finn's thrashing, caught his arm, and pulled him up.

 

“Oh, fuck!” Finn shouted once he resurfaced, latching onto Poe.

 

“See?” Poe asked. “You're fine.”

 

“It's cold!”

 

“But it was fun, right?”

 

“Yeah, whatever.” Finn coughed, choking on water. “You're one crazy motherfucker.”

 

Poe told Finn what he had told Rey, “Crazy's good sometimes.”

 

Finn pursed his lips. “Good, huh?” He looked back up at the ledge from which he'd jumped and smiled. “Maybe you're right.”

 

Poe took his hands and taught him out to kick his legs. When they returned to the shallow end he let go, allowing Finn to practice on his own. By the time the sky was black and littered with stars Finn was swimming just fine.

 

“You're a quick learner,” Poe commented, shaking the water out of his hair as they walked out of the lake.

 

“Yeah?” Finn said, hesitantly.

 

“Totally.” Poe slipped back into his boots, picked up his damp flightsuit, and held the lightstick in front of him as they walked back. “Have you been thinking about what you want to do? Once your physical therapy is over?”

 

Finn shrugged. “Not really. Probably ain't gonna be a pilot.”

 

“You could be an infantryman,” Poe suggested. “You're too good though. You need to specialize in something.”

 

“Like what?”

 

“Well, with all your dirt on the First Order, you could do intel.”

 

“What's that?”

 

“Undercover stuff. Sneaky-sneaky.”

 

Finn shook his head. “I'm not pretending to be a stormtrooper again.”

 

“Figured you wouldn't.” They stepped over a few logs, and then the trees broke and the Resistance base was in sight on the horizon, warm lights dotting the shadowed building, the silhouettes of ships crowding the runway. “You could be a tailgunner.” Poe glanced at Finn. “You were a sharp shooter when you were with me.”

 

Finn swallowed. “I'd need practice.”

 

“There's some training spots a few miles away,” Poe informed, nearing the base. “We'll go one day when it's empty. It's like target practice, but you're in the sky. We got a few ancient T-47 speeders from the Rebellion.”

 

“Sounds so easy,” Finn muttered sarcastically.

 

Poe clapped his shoulder. “You'll get the hang of it. Just like you do everything else.”

 

Finn smiled. They walked to the barracks in a comfortable silence.

 

“I'll show you to the showers,” Poe said once they reached their rooms. He slipped into his room to grab a duffel bag of clothes and soaps and Finn did the same.

 

“Are there gonna be, like...people?” Finn asked nervously.

 

“Probably not this late. Nobody'll bother you, though, either way. We got all kinds of species here, buddy.” He looked at Finn meaningfully. “They won't even notice the difference.”

 

The showers were in an offshoot from the hallway, tiled with silver panels and sequestered by tall stalls. Benches lined the middle of the room. No one was there, most likely at the mess hall, and Poe set his things down on the opposite end of the bench from Finn. He grabbed his shampoo and soap and took them to a shower, then peeled off his wet clothes and tossed them at the bench, hearing a wet slap as Finn did the same. He let the water run at its highest temperature and groaned when it hit his back. A few moments later Finn's shower started too, but only for about thirty seconds.

 

Poe frowned. When he stepped out of the stall a few minutes later Finn was fully dressed, back turned to him on the bench.

 

“Tell me when I can look,” Finn called.

 

Poe smirked. “I'm not shy.” He pulled a white long sleeve shirt over his head and stepped into black shorts, tossed his dirty clothes into his bag. “Okay.”

 

Finn stood up, blushing. Amused, Poe walked ahead of him. “I was kidding.”

 

“I know.”.

 

“Just checking.” Poe threw his bag into his room and shut the door. “You got your fridge stocked up all nice, right, newbie?”

 

“Yeah, and you ain't gonna eat any of it,” Finn said, opening his door.

 

“Don't make me go to all the way to the mess hall,” Poe moaned.

 

“Fine.” Finn gave an exaggerated sigh and opened his fridge. He handed Poe a bottle of apple juice and a napkin of sausage they stole from breakfast the previous morning, then took the glass of flowers off of his windowsill. The new daisies were striving with other plants to accompany them. Poe nibbled the cold links of sausage on Finn's bed as Finn set the glass on the sink and took out the flowers, then carefully placed his collection of rocks from the lake around the bottom of the glass. He put the flowers back and returned the glass to the windowsill.

 

“Looks nice,” Poe appraised. “Maybe you should be a florist.”

 

“Shut up,” Finn said.

 

“I'm serious. We'll send deadly bouquets to Hux.”

 

Finn sat down next to him. “Haha. Give me that.” He took the rest of the sausages and popped them into his mouth, nearly swallowed them whole. “Man. Beats nutraloaf.”

 

Poe yawned. “What is it, anyways?”

 

“Buncha random crap thrown together.” Finn shuddered. “Hard as a rock and smells like barf. Got about three thousand calories.”

 

Poe wrinkled his nose. “Nasty.”

 

“You're tellin' me.” Finn smiled at him softly. “You tired?”

 

“It's been a long damn day.” Poe wanted to lean against Finn, who was soft and warm next to him, but stood up. “I should head to bed.”

 

“Alright.”

 

Poe walked to the door. “Night.”

 

“Night,” Finn called.

 

Poe collapsed onto his bed and sighed, feeling like he'd missed out on something, but didn't have time to wonder because he fell asleep in minutes.

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the cliffhanger (not really)! Next chapter might take a bit longer to write; I'll also have less time to write for the next few days but I'll try to update as quick as I can. Thanks for reading! 
> 
> (More backstory in this chapter. I've only seen TFA once so far, so please excuse any incongruities. Also, if you're ever bored, I suggest spending an hour and a half looking up starfighter parts and other Star Wars tech stuff.
> 
> BB-8's dialogue is inspired by Gretahs' lovely fic, [the coat theif](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5460125).)

A few mornings later they were in the mess hall, sitting across from each other in the corner by the windows where the sun poured in. Poe was eating his bacon and pancakes when Finn asked, “Do you think Rey's okay?”

 

Poe swallowed and observed his friend. Finn was staring out the window, his plate untouched. “Of course she is,” Poe said. “She's a fuckin' Jedi.”

 

Finn snorted. He turned and stabbed his pancake with his fork. “I miss her.”

 

“She'll be back before you know it,” Poe assured. “You need to get busy. Do stuff.” This was the in he'd been looking for for days, now. “I was talking to General Organa...”

 

Finn looked up from his food. “About what?”

 

“You.”

 

“Oh.”

 

Poe leaned back in his seat and picked up his mug of kaf. “She said we could get those training grounds I told you about today.”

 

Finn beamed. “You're kidding!”

 

“I shit you not, my friend.” Poe took a sip of kaf.

 

“When can we go?” Finn was already rising from the table.

 

Poe caught his wrist. “When you finish your breakfast. It's the most important meal of the day, son.”

 

Finn rolled his eyes, but quickly downed his meal with renewed vigor. Poe finished his kaf and they left.

 

“The training grounds are about an hour away,” Poe informed as they walked to the hangar. He whistled sharply and BB-8 rolled toward them from where it was getting pampered by some of the engineers. “What's up, BB-8?”

 

[Friend-Poe!] BB-8 easily glided in step with him, but twisted its head around to face Finn. [Hello.]

 

Poe snorted. “Chill out, would you? He's cool.”

 

[My diagnostics read that he is untrustworthy.]

 

“What is it saying?” Finn asked.

 

“Nothing,” Poe said. He turned to the droid. “Diagnostics my ass.”

 

[His records state that he is a stormtrooper with the serial number—]

 

Poe halted. “Enough!”

 

Finn nearly ran into his back. “Poe, are you—”

 

“What's the designation?” Poe asked his droid.

 

It responded after a brief pause: [First Order Asshole; Stormtrooper FN-2187.]

 

Poe turned away, jaw clenched. Finn looked between them worriedly. Some other pilots and engineers were glancing their way, too.

 

Poe knelt down so Finn wouldn't hear. “Never say that again, do you hear me? I thought you liked him! What's gotten into you?”

 

[He is kidnapping you!]

 

Poe leaned back on his heels, shocked. “What?”

 

[You have been absent for extended periods of time with him. He is plotting to apprehend you.]

 

“Oh, man. You're adorable.” Poe sighed. “He's not kidnapping me. I've just been...busy. I'm sorry. We're flying today, though. Will that cheer you up?”

 

[It may rest may suspicions.]

 

“Alright.” Poe patted his droid's side. “I'll get you some snazzy new antennae or something, okay? And cut it out with the stormtrooper shit.”

 

[Yes, Friend-Poe.]

 

Poe stood. Finn eyed him. “So, everything good?”

 

“Yep,” Poe said. They arrived at a metal door. Poe entered the code given to him by General Organa and it opened with a hiss. They stepped inside of the separate hangar and Poe hit the lights. They came on one by one, illuminating the rows of old, battered ships from decades passed. An awed smile took over Poe's face as he walked through the down aisle, admiring all the fighters and freighters and speeders.

 

Poe let his hands glide over the dented casings of a B-Wing. BB-8 doubted its condition behind him. Poe told the droid to fuck off, and froze when something across the hangar caught his eye. “Holy shit!” he exclaimed, breaking out in a run. BB-8 and Finn had no choice but to follow.

 

Poe stopped in front of the X-wing, heart hammering. It was a T-65B, the Rouge Squadron's emblem emblazoned on the wings in faded red. Poe pressed his shaking hands against the nose.

 

“I'm gonna pass out,” he said. “I'm literally going to pass out. Oh my shit.”

 

Finn came up behind him. “What is it?”

 

“Finn...” Poe turned to him. “This is Wedge Antilles' X-wing! The one he used to save Yavin IV and help Lando Calrissian obliterate the second Death Star at Endor!” He whacked Finn's arm excitedly. “Dude!”

 

“Okay, okay, calm down...” Finn looked up beside him. “It is pretty cool.”

 

“Pretty cool?” Poe asked incredulously. “It's more than pretty cool. It's...it's legendary. It's phenomenal!”

 

Finn broke out laughing. BB-8 whirred next to him. [Friend-Poe, have you forgotten our objective?]

 

Poe shushed the droid. “Let me have this.”

 

Finn crossed his arms. “Why don't you ask to fly her?”

 

“Oh my god, I couldn't.” Poe stepped back. “I shouldn't even be touching her. I'm unworthy.”

 

“You're the best pilot in the Resistance,” Finn pointed out.

 

Poe rolled his eyes and huffed. “I might exaggerate a little. I'm no Wedge Antilles.”

 

“Sure you are,” Finn persisted. “You're the new Wedge Antilles.”

 

Poe narrowed his eyes. “You mean it?”

 

“'Course.” Finn walked around the starfighter, examining its hull. “He helped destroy the Death Star, right? You helped with the Starkiller. You helped the most.”

 

“I couldn't have done it alone,” Poe said.

 

“That's not the point.” Finn ran his hand over the elongated laser cannon of the bottom left strike-foil. “Antilles wasn't alone either. It's a group effort, sure. But you finished the job.” He looked at Poe over the cockpit. “You saved both our asses flying a TIE fighter for the first time.”

 

Poe glanced at the proton torpedoes fitted above the cockpit to avoid Finn's gaze. “I know that. I'm the best goddamn pilot in the galaxy.”

 

“And one of the best goddamn pilots of all time,” Finn added. He rounded the rear of the starfighter and tugged at Poe's elbow. “C'mon. Let's find that Hoth speeder.”

 

Poe allowed Finn to pull him around while he ruminated over what Finn had told him. Wedge Antilles was a hero of the Rebellion, just like his parents. Poe was a good pilot, a spectacular pilot, but there was a difference between skill and honor; duty and integrity. He'd failed the Resistance and lost his honor and integrity the moment he fell to Kylo Ren's brain-splitting torture.

 

“I don't know what this thing looks like, man,” Finn said eventually and Poe shook himself out of it.

 

“Right. Uh.” They stopped. “It's bulky, but has a ton of firepower. That's the point of a tailgunner. You go in real hard.”

 

Finn raised his eyebrows. “Real, real hard?”

 

Poe snorted. “Fuck off.” He walked around a decommissioned B-wing and smiled. “There it is.”

 

The T-47 was waiting for them in all its glory, right before the door that lead out to an isolated runway just for this particular hangar. BB-8 rolled up to the ship began diagnosing its condition.

 

Poe shrugged the pack he'd brought off of his shoulder and took out the toolbox he'd inherited from his mother and set it down on the ground. It was black and banged up and covered in stickers. The name SHARA BEY was scrawled across the top in messy looped script, BEY crossed out to be replaced with DAMERON, and then Poe's own chicken-scratch name added above SHARA

 

Finn sat on the floor as Poe and BB-8 began repairing the ship's armament. “What are all those stickers for?” he asked.

 

Poe glanced over his shoulder. “Most of 'em are my mom's. Used to be her tools, till I got 'em. The stickers were like a collection of hers, kind of...” He turned back to the T-47's slapdash harpoon and resumed refitting its cable. “Never got to ask what they all meant. She died when I was nine.”

 

“I'm sorry,” Finn said. “Shouldn't have brought it up.”

 

Poe waved him off with his drill. “It's fine. She'd been sick for awhile. Wasn't much of a surprise.”

 

“Was she a pilot too?”

 

Poe grinned to himself. “Hell yeah she was. Part of the Green Squadron at Endor. She was General Organa's personal pilot for a few missions, too. Luke Skywalker gave her and my old man some magic Force-sensitive tree or something. Never met 'im, though. It was before I was born.”

 

[Ship is in optimal condition, Friend-Poe,] BB-8 announced. Fixing up a model like this must've been child's play.

 

Poe nodded, stepping away. “Let's get to it, then.” He put his drill back into the toolbox, then threw the box back into his pack. Before he returned to the speeder, Finn took his shoulder. “She'd be proud of you,” Finn said softly.

 

Poe's chest tightened. Finn's hand was heavy on his shoulder. “Thanks.”

 

“You're welcome.” Finn walked past him and hopped into the back of the speeder's cockpit.

 

Poe swallowed, dazed. BB-8 poked his side. “Ow!” He rubbed the spot with a scowl. “I can sell you for parts anytime, you know.”

 

[Focus on the objective, not Resistance Member-Finn.]

 

“What?”

 

Finn was lifting BB-8 up into the cockpit.

 

“What did that mean?” Poe demanded.

 

BB-8 ignored him, thrusting its data probe into one of the ports below the pilot's control panel. Poe shook his head and hopped into the pilot's seat, spreading his legs around BB-8.

 

“It'll be a tight squeeze,” he told Finn, “these aren't made for droids and beefy stormtroopers.” He handed Finn his pack to shove in the back of the cockpit.

 

“That's fine,” Finn said. Then he paused. “Did you call me beefy?”

 

“In a good way.” Poe lowered the top of the cockpit and started the engine of the speeder. “Do you prefer hunky?”

 

“Um. I don't—I don't know.”

 

“Beefy it is, then.” Poe rolled his shoulders. The cockpit was wider than his X-wing's, but had a smaller control panel due to its limited mobility. The added visibility of the 360 degree view was a nice trade-off, though. “You gunned down some bastards in the Millennium Falcon, right?” he asked Finn, who'd regaled his journey with Rey awhile ago, after Poe caught him up on the progress of the Resistance and Kylo Ren's status.

 

“Yeah,” Finn said.

 

“Cool. Same concept, more ammo and power.” Poe addressed BB-8: “Open the door, please.”

 

BB-8 complied (all the ships in the hangar were rerouted to the Resistance base's systems) and the giant door lifted. Poe squinted his eyes at the bright daylight, unhooking his sunglasses from the collar of his shirt and putting them on with the bulky headset laying on the control panel. Man, shit was retro. He though he should be on an old movie poster about a sexy pilot.

 

[Should I shade the viewport?] BB-8 asked. If droids had voices, Poe thought BB-8 might've sounded like a sarcastic little shit.

 

“No,” he said, kicking the droid in its side.

 

[Resistance Member-Finn is unhindered by the light.]

 

“Well, he doesn't need to look cooler, does he?” Poe snapped.

 

“Something wrong?” Finn asked.

 

“Nope,” Poe said, “I'm just gonna melt BB-8 when we get back.”

 

“...Okay.”

 

“We're leaving now. Finn, you should put on your headset.” Poe maneuvered the speeder outside to the runway, accelerated, and lifted off. Finn gasped and cursed during the ascent and Poe smiled mirthfully.

 

Once they leveled out, he adjusted the mic of his headset. “BB-8, connect me to General Organa.”

 

“You've found the speeder just fine, I see,” the general's voice crackled in Poe's ears.

 

“Yeah, found something else too,” he said. “Wedge Antilles' fucking X-wing!”

 

“Oh. I forgot we had his old fighter...”

 

“You know I'm in love with him!” Poe blanched at Finn's laughter behind him. “I mean, I like the guy. He's a nice guy. Why didn't you tell me?”

 

“At first I didn't trust you just yet. Then, I wanted to torture you some more. Finn?”

 

Finn reigned himself in. “Yes, General?”

 

“Good luck with your practice. You're in good hands. Dameron will be giving me a report of your performance tomorrow.”

 

“Awesome! I mean—affirmative. Roger that. Thank you, General. Thanks.”

 

Poe snorted. General Organa cut to his private channel. “He's got no idea what he's doing.”

 

“You haven't seen him in much action, just yet.” Poe glided just above the trees, not wanting to chance his altitude. The clouds were high in the sky today. It was windless and bright; nothing obstructed his vision. “I believe in him.”

 

“Well, so do I. But I'm not singing his praises until he proves himself to my standards.”

 

“That'll be damn near impossible, General,” Poe stated.

 

“That's the point.”

 

He smiled. “You're a real card, you know that?”

 

“Safe flying,” she said, then ended the call.

 

Once they left the perimeter of the base the D'Qar wilderness unfurled below them. Sprawling forests were bisected by gushing rivers, and layers of eroded rock bordered great basins of freshwater.

 

“It's beautiful,” Finn said in awe. They passed over a waterfall.

 

“It is,” Poe agreed. Yavin IV's forests of his childhood were tropical and crowded, overrun with undergrowth. D'Qar's forests were spacious, more hardy, filled with the scent of pine and sap. In the later months they cooled down to a mild frost and all the animals hibernated. D'Qar was calm, still, and had a nice ebb and flow about it. He knew that General Organa sometimes traveled out to the wilderness, and suspected it was another Force thing. He'd often wondered why she never became a Jedi; it saddened him now that he knew.

 

“You okay?” Finn asked after a considerable silence. His voice was polluted with the old commlink of the speeder.

 

“Yeah. Just thinking.”

 

“Bad thoughts?”

 

Poe paused. “No. Good ones, I guess.”

 

“What about?”

 

“My childhood.” And General Organa's crazy Skywalker family drama. “I grew up on Yavin IV. It was real forest-y, too. Crappy kind though. It was gross and hot. I like D'Qar a lot better.”

 

“It's a hell of a lot better than Starkiller. It was so ugly and cold.”

 

“That's funny.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“It's lame,” Poe warned.

 

Finn chuckled warmly. “I think I can handle it.”

 

“Well... We both grew up in forests, you know? But only D'Qar feels right.”

 

There was a beat of silence. “Yeah,” Finn murmured. “I get you.”

 

“Like, things make sense here.” Poe blinked hurriedly. “After my mom died I got angry. I wanted to leave Yavin so bad. Then my dad died and General Organa brought me here. And for the first time, I could do something. I was useful.” His voice caught.

 

“Poe?” Finn whispered.

 

Poe rubbed his eyes. “Forget it.”

 

Finn's voice sharpened. “Poe!”

 

Poe straightened. “What?”

 

“There's a First Order recon droid!”

 

“What?!” Poe sneered at the empty radar. “The tech's too old to pick up on it!”

 

“It's on the right. I don't think it noticed us. Must not have this kinda model programmed.”

 

“Fuck me,” Poe snapped. He stalled the T-47 in the air with bated breath. The recon droid was floating in between the trees about twenty meters right. It was sleek and black with a single eyelet on the front.

 

[Should I send an alarm to base?] BB-8 asked.

 

“No,” Poe said. “Not yet. Maybe that's what they want. It could be a diversion.”

 

“Why would they think anybody would be this far from base?” Finn asked. “If we gun it down, the Order will know immediately,” he added.

 

Poe called General Organa again, voice hushed as if the droid could hear.. “We got an emergency.”

 

She dismissed someone, then gave him her full attention. “What is it?”

 

Poe opened the channel to Finn who said, “It's a probe droid.”

 

“Damn it,” General Organa cursed. “We haven't had any signs of activity for weeks.”

 

“I know,” Poe said. “What do you want us to do, chief?”

 

“It's stopping,” Finn announced.

 

Poe leaned forward, pressing his hand against the viewport. “It's just...at a tree.”

 

“There's someone there,” Finn hissed.

 

A figure swathed in black stepped out from behind the tree, configured the droid, and then disappeared. The droid lifted into the sky and flew away from the base, in the direction from which it came.

 

“It's leaving,” Poe said. “Couldn't see who the son of a bitch was. They were wearing black. Want us to pursuit?”

 

“I'm not letting you go without backup,” General Organa said.

 

“Finn's with me,” Poe reminded.

 

She paused. “Finn.”

 

“Yes, ma'am?” Finn asked.

 

“I know you're talented, but are you up for this? Physically?”

 

“Of course.”

 

“You've got my best pilot out there. If Poe dies, it's on you.”

 

“Shit, General,” Poe muttered.

 

“I promise I'll protect him,” Finn swore.

 

“I have an emergency kit and blaster and flare in my pack,” Poe said. “There should be some stuff stored on this speeder, too. BB-8 is with us.”

 

“Check the compartment under the gunner's seat,” General Organa said. “How far are you from base?”

 

They'd only flown for about thirty minutes, and the T-47 was slow. Poe checked their coordinates. “About twenty miles.”

 

“If I don't get a message from BB-8 confirming you're alright by nightfall I'm sending a search team.”

 

“Well, let's hope it won't come to that.” Poe swung the speeder around so he could land without alerting the mysterious figure. He lowered the ship onto a large riverbank parallel to the figure's location. “This is it.”

 

General Organa sighed heavily. “May the Force be with you,” she murmured.

 

Poe ended the call.

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Changed the rating to M because of this chapter; it's a bit graphic with a lot of cursing. Also added the "Blood and Injury" tag. Next chapter will warrant a new character tag, but I'll change that tomorrow. 
> 
> Thank you so much for your comments, they inspired me and helped me hammer out a few more chapters. We're nearing the end of the fic! I hope you've all enjoyed it so far. Please don't get too mad at Poe and his idiocy. 
> 
> As always, thanks for reading!
> 
> {This chapter was heavily inspired by The Wolves Act I & II by Bon Iver. I listened to it on repeat while writing.)

_Someday my pain_  
_Someday my pain will mark you_  
_Harness your blame_  
_Harness your blame, walk through_  
_With the wild wolves around you_  
_In the morning, I'll call you_  
_Send it farther on_  
_Solace my game_  
_Solace my game, it stars you_  
_Swing wide your crane_  
_Swing wide your crane and run me through_  
_And the story's all over_  
_In the morning, I'll call you_  
_Can't you find a clue_  
_When your eyes are all painted Sinatra blue..._

The cockpit opened silently and for a moment Finn nor Poe moved, listening to the forest. The river swirled to their left and the trees shifted to their right. Nothing else stirred.

 

“Okay then,” Poe said. He took off his headset and sunglasses and hopped out of the ship. Finn helped BB-8 get down, then tossed Poe his pack and knelt down below the gunner's seat. He rose with a blaster just as General Organa promised, along with a medkit which Poe stowed away in his pack.

 

Finn landed next to him on the riverbank. It smelled like fish. “What's the plan?”

 

“No plan,” Poe said. He holstered the blaster from his pack onto his thigh.

 

Finn nodded. “Sounds like a good one.”

 

“I had to fly about a mile west just to be safe.” Poe began walking through the brush, taking point. Finn and BB-8 followed. “If we head east and stay in a straight line we might find him.”

 

“Man, I did not think my day would end up like this,” Finn mumbled.

 

“You're tellin' me.” Poe kicked aside a fallen branch and spat into the river. “Stay sharp.”

 

They traversed slowly in single file to reduce their tracks. As a soldier, Poe's father knew all about ground tactics and survival skills. When they went camping on Yavin IV he taught Poe how to tell time by the position of the sun and what kinds of fungi were edible and how to walk so as to not startle wildlife. Poe squinted up at the sky and figured it was about 1100. If they kept a nice pace they'd reach the stranger in about thirty minutes.

 

Finn's footsteps were heavy and loud behind him. All that damn First Order marching and shit really made him unsuitable for the forest.

 

“Keep it down,” Poe whispered.

 

“I'm not saying anything,” Finn replied.

 

“You walk loud.”

 

“What?”

 

Poe sighed. “Never mind.” He was getting antsy. He took his blaster out of its holster and turned the safety off.

 

Twenty minutes passed and Poe lifted his hand. Finn and BB-8 stopped. The sun glittered through the trees around them, falling onto the forest floor in patches of light. A pure white cervine mammal froze ahead of them. Its ears twitched as Poe and Finn held their breath. Suddenly, it's neck was pierced by a laser beam and it thumped heavily to the ground. Poe shoved Finn behind a wide tree trunk and peeked around the side.

 

“I'm telling you,” a deep voice called, “we ain't finding shit.”

 

The cloaked figure who configured the probe droid stepped out in the light with a blaster in hand. “I wish you weren't so trigger-happy.”

 

Their larger counterpart appeared behind them, wearing similarly worn rags. “Oh, come on. Gotta pass the time somehow.”

 

Finn pressed his hand against the small of Poe's back. Poe shook his head.

 

“If we stray from the job we won't get paid,” the cloaked one said as he walked onward.. “Hux'll have our skins, too.”

 

“Hux can kiss my ass...”

 

Poe pressed himself back against Finn's chest. “I need you to do what you did to me in the training room,” he whispered. “Charge the big one. I'll get the other guy's blaster.”

 

Finn nodded. “Okay.”

 

“On three,” Poe said.

 

The cloaked one stopped. “Did you hear something?”

 

Poe lifted a single finger.

 

The other one paused. “No.”

 

Poe lifted another finger.

 

They both turned their backs. “I swear...”

 

Finn bolted ahead of Poe and threw himself at the larger man.

 

While they tussled Poe ran to the slighter one and tackled him, pressed his blaster against his head then looked up. “Finn? You okay, buddy?”

 

The larger man forced Finn onto his back, knocking both of their blasters a few feet away.

 

“Shit! BB-8!”

 

The droid rolled toward them and shocked the larger man, who cried out and fell onto his side. Finn quickly pressed him into the ground with his knees and held his arms behind his back.

 

“You're making a mistake,” the cloaked man said.

 

Poe pressed the blaster further against the man's skull. “Shut the hell up.”

 

The guy's friend grunted against the ground, “We aren't with the Order—”

 

Finn whacked his head.. “Quiet.”

 

“Can I get a name?” Poe requested.

 

They both remained silent.

 

“Alright. From now on you'll be known as Dickhead One”—he jostled the man underneath him— “and Dickhead Two.”

 

“We gonna suck each other's cocks all day or what?” Dickhead Two asked. “You're gonna hafta let us up eventually.”

 

Poe looked at his droid. “BB-8, tell General Organa we've apprehended two dumbasses.”

 

[Yes Friend-Poe.]

 

“Wait a moment,” Dickhead One said. “Organa? Leia Organa? We're friends of Han Solo!”

 

“Yeah!” Dickhead Two exclaimed. “We're real old pals.”

 

“I thought I told you to be quiet,” Finn spat. He glanced at Poe and shrugged.

 

BB-8 beeped. [Communications are down, Friend-Poe.]

 

Poe blanched. “What?”

 

[A connection to the base's communication system cannot be made.]

 

Poe bit his lip. He lifted his head. “We got a code Daisy-Bey on our hands.”

 

Finn furrowed his brow. “A what?”

 

“A Daisy-Bey,” Poe repeated. He addressed the Dickheads. “You boys hear that?”

 

“Dunno what the fuck it means,” Dickhead Two said.

 

“You don't wanna find out,” Poe promised.

 

 _What?_ Finn mouthed.

 

Poe circled his free hand in the air— _Roll with it_.

 

Finn scowled. “Damn, son.” He turned to Dickhead Two. “I feel sorry for you. Daisy-Bey? Shit.”

 

Poe flipped his hair out of his eyes. “I'm gonna get up real easy now,” he told Dickhead One. “You try anything I'll blow your head off. Okay?” He twisted the guy's arm back further. “Okay?”

 

“Okay!”

 

“Alright...” Poe rose, then slowly lifted the man up. “See? Ain't so—”

 

Dickhead One wrenched his entire body forward, bringing Poe with him, then swung his head back and butted Poe right in the nose.

 

“SHIT!” Poe staggered back, dropping the man and his blaster. The man whipped out a knife from his sleeve and stabbed Poe in the side. He was about to reach for Poe's blaster when a shot rang through the air. The man crumpled to the ground, a hole burnt right through his smoking chest. Poe hands trembled around the knife embedded in his side. He looked up and saw Finn staring at the fallen man blankly, blaster lifted up in front of him.

 

Dickhead Two scrabbled for his own blaster and stood. “Oh, fuck this!”

 

He fled.

 

Poe's chest heaved. “Shit shit shit.” Blood was leaking from his nose and wound, staining his shirt. “Finn!” he cried.

 

Finn blinked. He dropped his blaster and rushed forward.

 

Poe grit his teeth when he touched the stab wound. “Don't take it out!”

 

“Tell me what to do,” Finn pleaded.

 

Poe let his pack fall to the ground. “Medkit,” he gasped, leaning against a tree.

 

Finn dropped to his knees and rummaged around the pack. He pulled out the kit taken from the T-47 and flipped it open. There were bandages and small bacta packs and scissors. He rose and gently lowered Poe to the ground, who yelled in pain.

 

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry,” Finn apologized. BB-8 was circling around them frantically. Sweat broke out on Poe's forehead. Finn took off his leather jacket and offered him the sleeve. “Might wanna bite on this.”

 

Poe paled. He bit down on the leather and squeezed his eyes shut. Finn cut away the fabric around his wound with the scissors, then pressed Poe's shoulder against the tree with one hand, other hand resting against Poe's thigh.

 

“On three,” Finn said.

 

Poe nodded.

 

“One. Two. Three—”

 

Poe screamed around the jacket sleeve, arcing off of the tree as his eyes watered. Finn immediately ripped open a bacta pack and pressed it against Poe's side. The jelly seeped into the wound and surrounding red skin; it blazed like fire for just a moment before cooling considerably. Poe choked on his breath. Finn took the leather out of his mouth and he wheezed.

 

“You still with me?” Finn asked. Poe swallowed and nodded again. Finn picked up his hand and laid it against the bacta pack. “Press down.”

 

Finn opened another pack to prepare some bandages. Poe rolled his head against the tree and stared at the bloody knife. It was pretty small and unspectacular. “Probably shouldn't've called 'em dickheads,” he tried to say. It came out as a breathless slur instead.

 

Finn patted his leg. “Okay.”

 

Poe looked up. “Finn,” he said. “Finn. Finn.”

 

Finn turned sharply. “What is it?”

 

“Up.”

 

Finn looked at the sky and moaned. “Oh, come on!”

 

Their T-47 rose above the trees and blasted off in the direction the probe droid had retreated.

 

Poe laughed deliriously. “Fuckin' A.”

 

Finn pursed his lips and returned to his work with the bandages.

 

BB-8 nudged Poe's foot. [Friend-Poe Friend-Poe Friend-Poe.]

 

“'M fine,” he mumbled. “You did good.”

 

Finn returned into view, which was admittedly getting a little blurry. Poe's wound still burned with pain but the bacta counteracted it, sending weird hot-cold flashes up and down his entire side. It made him nauseous.

 

“I'm gonna remove your shirt,” Finn said. “Okay?”

 

“Yep,” Poe grunted. He lifted his arms unceremoniously, whining at how it dragged his wound open.

 

“Slow down,” Finn chided, gently picking up his shirt and pulling it over his arms. He set it aside.

 

Poe dropped his arms. “Like what you see?” His voice sounded weird to his ears.

 

Finn looked at his chest, eyes trailing over the two scars lining the bottom of his pectorals. “Maybe.” He ducked his head and removed the bacta pack from Poe's wound, began wrapping wet bandages around it instead.

 

Poe laughed. “Okay.” He patted Finn's head with the arm of his good side. “Okay, buddy.”

 

“Stay still, buddy,” Finn said. He taped the bandages and leaned back. “That's good for now. I think you need stitches but there isn't any string in the medkit.”

 

“I won't let you sew my goddamn intestines up,” Poe snapped.

 

“It's your side. It's just your side.” Finn grabbed his shirt from the ground. “Arms up.”

 

Poe grumbled as he complied. Once Finn had him redressed he splayed out on the ground. Pine needles dug into his scalp and back.

 

“Poe?” Finn's face crowd his vision again. “Poe, come on. We gotta go.” He shook Poe's shoulder, touched the blood crusted on Poe's face feather-light. “Don't bail on me now.”

 

Poe tried swatting him away.

 

Finn sighed. He refilled and shouldered their pack and undid the holster on Poe's thigh, transferred it to his own leg, and picked up Poe's blaster. Poe watched his ministrations dazedly. Finn scooped Poe into his arms like he weighed nothing and began walking, BB-8 dogging his heels. Poe jostled in his arms, but when he curled into Finn's chest it didn't bother him as much. He closed his eyes.

 

“Tell me about your parents some more,” Finn said.

 

Poe hummed. “Dunno what else to say.”

 

“What about your dad?”

 

Poe scoffed. “Hard ass sonuvabitch... Wouldn't let me fly after Mom died.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Didn't want me to die too. Got scared...” He lifted up his good arm. “See that scar?”

 

Finn looked down. There was a ragged scar lining the back of Poe's forearm. “Yeah.”

 

“Broke m' bone. Stole a little speeder, tried getting it off the ground. Crashed. Dad about killed me. I yelled back. He said...” Poe frowned. “He said, 'Can't lose your momma and you too.' Stormed outta the hospital room.”

 

“He cared,” Finn said.

 

“I was a shitty kid,” Poe sighed. Tears prickled the corners of his eyes. “I never got to make it up to him. He died. First Order attacked our house to get that fuckin' magic tree and he died. There was a fire.” Poe opened his eyes. Above him, Finn was looking ahead. “You ever see a burning body, Finn?”

 

Finn glanced down. “Yeah. Jakku.”

 

Poe smiled. “Huh.” He twisted his face back to Finn's chest. “That's funny.”

 

When he came to the sun had moved to 1300. He was lying beside a brook. The pack was next to him. Finn was on his knees a little ways away, cupping water into his hands and splashing it onto his face. His jacket was off. Poe realized it was thrown over his own chest.

 

He lowered his chin. It smelled like pine and soap and Finn. He lifted a hand and ran his fingertips over the back. It was softer, stretched out by Finn's broad shoulders. The patch sewed onto where Kylo Ren's lightsaber had burnt through was a shade darker than the rest of the leather. Poe thought it looked better. He fisted it in his hand and drifted off once more.

 

He dreamt he was in his old backyard. Rey was standing in front of the magic tree Luke Skywalker gave his parents. She was dressed in black. She turned around and her eyes were red. Poe looked at his house and it was on fire. His dad was burning. His dad turned into Finn. “Poe,” Finn screamed. “Poe Poe Poe Poe Poe Poe Poe—”

 

“Poe, Poe, come on, wake up.”

 

Poe's eyes flew open. The sky was orange and he couldn't see the sun. Finn's jacket—their jacket, his jacket—was cushioning his head. And Finn was above him.

 

“You were having a nightmare. It's okay.”

 

“Oh.” Poe turned. BB-8 was right next to him.

 

[Friend-Poe's vitals are stabilizing now.]

 

Finn exhaled in relief. “You scared me.”

 

“Sorry,” Poe apologized. He swallowed. His throat was dry. “I'm thirsty.”

 

“Okay.” Their pack was unzipped next to Finn. He pulled out the emergency kit and opened up the small canteen of water and tipped it into Poe's mouth. Poe remembered when he did the same for Finn.

 

“I like you,” he said. His head wasn't as fuzzy now but he thought Finn wouldn't notice.

 

“I like you too,” Finn replied. He lowered the canteen. “Better?”

 

Poe nodded.

 

Finn looked up. “It's getting dark. The general will probably send somebody out soon.”

 

Poe glanced at BB-8.

 

[Communications are still down Friend-Poe.]

 

“Fuck,” he muttered. “I could use a smoke.”

 

“Today's your lucky day.” Finn handed him a pack of cigarettes from a pocket in the pack. “Found these earlier.”

 

Poe smiled. “I could kiss you.”

 

Finn got a set of matches from the emergency kit. “Ha.”

 

Poe lit his cigarette. He grinned as he inhaled. “I'm serious. I could. I'd do it right now.”

 

“You're crazy.”

 

Poe opened his mouth.

 

“But crazy's good sometimes,” Finn said before Poe could speak. He stood and started collecting branches and didn't look at him. “Right?”

 

“Right.” Poe tapped his cigarette, exhaling.

 

“Well, crazy ain't too good right now. But sometime.”

 

“Sometime,” Poe echoed. “Okay.”

 

Finn set the branches down. He dragged the pack toward himself and started pulling out rocks.

 

Poe turned onto his good side and propped his head up with his hand. “You find any good ones?”

 

“Good what?”

 

“Rocks.”

 

Finn grinned. “Yeah. I think one of them is a fossil.” He finished setting the plain ones down around their makeshift campfire and lit a match, then blew the flame at the base of the campfire until it grew. When he was done he settled beside Poe, back against a tree, and took some rocks out of his pocket.

 

One of them was the color of bone with cracked pores. Finn flipped it over in his palm, where an imprint of a leaf was etched out.

 

“I'll be damned,” Poe murmured.

 

Finn traced the veins of the leaf with his fingertip. “You can see everything.” He set it down and retrieved another rock. It was striped with orange and red and scarlet. Then the third was black and rough and peppered with gray and silver. “Like, volcanic,” Finn said. His fourth and last rock was smooth as a river stone, deep brown like the dirt and tree bark and chocolate. “It reminded me of you,” Finn confessed.

 

Poe snorted. “How?”

 

Finn looked away. “Brown. Like your hair. And eyes.”

 

Poe started laughing. He laughed so hard birds up in the trees were startled into flight. He fell onto his back and kept laughing until he ran out of breath.

 

Finn voice sharpened. He gathered his stones and put them back in his pocket. “Didn't know it was funny.”

 

“No, no, buddy—” Poe rose up on his elbow again. “It's cute. You're fucking cute. I just—this is so weird. I just got stabbed and you're giving me a rock and...and...” His face fell. He turned away and hallowed his cheeks around his cigarette. When he spoke again the smoke covered his face, rose in between them. “Never mind.”

 

Finn didn't speak. The wind whistled and the leaves stirred. Then Finn rose, taking the blaster out of its holster. “You should get some rest.”

 

“Hey, jackass.” Poe smashed his cigarette out and stood with only minor difficulty, keeping his hand pressed against his side. Finn stopped and angrily turned around. Poe held out his hand. “I'll go check. You just carried me for who knows how far. Sit down or I'll kick your ass.”

 

“You're hurt,” Finn said.

 

Poe rolled his eyes. “I'm not dying just yet.” He walked forward, hiding his pain, and forcibly took the blaster from Finn's hands. “Don't worry. I scream, you'll hear me.”

 

“Whatever,” Finn snarled. He sat down in front of the fire without another word.

 

Poe patrolled the perimeter of their little camp while it was still light. BB-8 followed him dutifully.

 

[Friend-Finn's mental state is suffering.]

 

Poe frowned at the droid. “Since when did he become your friend?”

 

[Friend-Finn saved Friend-Poe's life. Friend-Finn restored Friend-Poe's vitals.]

 

“Yeah, yeah.”

 

Poe looked out through the trees. It was getting chilly again. He wanted another cigarette.

 

“Shit reminds me of my father,” he muttered.

 

BB-8 beeped comfortingly, bumping Poe's leg.

 

“I haven't gotten emotional about him in years. Or my mom. I try not to even think about 'em.” Poe lifted his hand in front of his face, then lowered it in a straight line. “Always moving forward. Don't look back...” He glanced over his shoulder at the campfire, then caught himself and scowled. “Motherfucker.”

 

He paused and lifted up his shirt. The bacta was wearing off because his wound was flaring in pain again and blood had soaked through the sticky bandages. He didn't know how many bacta packs the medkit had. Maybe four or five. Finn already used two. What if he got hurt as well?

 

“Fuckin' wasteful,” Poe muttered. He stalked to the right, along the far side of the camp, trying to ignore how his limp was worsening.

 

[Friend-Poe's heart rate is increasing.]

 

“Do you gotta announce every damn thing?” Poe demanded.

 

BB-8 stopped and lowered its head.

 

Poe sighed. “Sorry.”

 

He glanced down at the blaster in his hand. It was a good weight to hold. The curve of the grip fitted nicely against his palm; it was lighter and slimmer than the joysticks of an X-wing.. He'd never been much of a ground fighter, preferring the buttons of a stock-wing's laser cannon over the trigger of a blaster, but now he could see the appeal. He set the bottom of the grip against the meat of his palm and curved the forefinger of his other hand around the trigger, lifted up his arms and aimed.

 

He jerked in surprise when a creature walked right into his line of sight. It was similar to the animal that he saw die earlier, but smaller with spots of brown littering its white coat and nubs substituting adult antlers. It was an infant.

 

Poe lowered the blaster. The animal bleated. Poe wondered if it could survive on its own. He briefly considered killing it out of mercy before turning on his heel and returning to the campfire. Let it figure out things out on its own, he thought. Let it at least catch a semblance of joy.

 

He set the blaster down beside Finn, then laid back down atop the leather jacket and turned so his back was facing his friend, even if it forced him to lay on his bad side. As he fell asleep he found himself thinking of the baby animal, wondering if it was okay, if he had done the right thing by letting it live. He hoped so. He really hoped so.

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only one more chapter left, then the epilogue! This one is a bit shorter, but I hope the next will make up for it. Thanks for sticking with me. :)

Poe was shaken awake some indiscernible time later. When he looked up at the sky there was just the moon and the stars so he couldn't tell the time. Dark smooth hair tickled his forehead. It was Jessika. She pressed her hand against his cheek.

 

“Poe, wake up. We're here.” She looked up and spoke to someone. “He has a fever.”

 

He was lifted up onto a gurney. When he turned his head he saw the campfire had been reduced to black ash. “Where's Finn?” he croaked.

 

“On the ship,” Jessika said. She helped someone carry the gurney onto the ship.

 

The recycled air was too stale and cold and him shiver with sweat. He wanted to go back out to the forest and find that baby animal. He tried to move his legs to stand up but dropped to the floor with a smack instead. “Fuck.”

 

Jessika exasperatedly dragged him back onto the gurney. He tried writhing again and she barred his chest with her arm. “Don't make me strap you down.”

 

“Where's my smokes?” he asked.

 

“In your bag.” She rolled her eyes. “You aren't getting any. You're sick.”

 

“I'm fine.” Jessika pressed more weight against him and he sighed. “This sucks.”

 

Suddenly General Organa was next to him. Her hair was braided over her shoulder. It looked nicer when it wasn't pinned up. “You lead us to a group of mercenaries hidden some miles north. We tracked that T-47 back to a camp were they'd been hiding. They're in our custody now.”

 

“Glad to be of help, general,” he muttered.

 

Her face softened. “How are you feeling?”

 

He shrugged. “Like I got stabbed.”

 

“Finn saved your life.” She glanced to the back of the ship, where he presumably was. Poe couldn't see behind Jessika. “Did something happen? He isn't speaking much.”

 

Poe scoffed. “Everything's fine.”

 

Jessika narrowed her eyes. “Sure.”

 

“You ever find that droid?” Poe asked, changing the topic.

 

General Organa pulled a seat up to his side. “No. But we figured out it had muddled with the base's signals. That's why BB-8 couldn't signal us.”

 

BB-8 pinged somewhere. [Friend-Poe did not fitted me with an adequate antennae like he had previously ensured.]

 

“Uh-huh,” Poe mumbled. “That's it.”

 

“Don't worry about it,” General Organa dismissed. She cupped his forehead with her cool hand. “You've done enough.”

 

Everyone was pissing Poe off. He was being pampered when all he did was get hurt. Finn saved his ass and no one was even speaking to him.

 

He swatted Jessika away. “I won't do anything,” he insisted when she scowled. She huffed and walked toward the viewport. General Organa stared at Poe pointedly, then left as well.

 

Poe struggled to sit up. He had an awful headache. “Finn,” he murmured.

 

Finn was sitting in the corner of the ship, legs curled up to his chest, looking out the window. The stars blazed passed him in streaks of light, reflecting off of his dark skin.

 

“Finn,” Poe repeated, a little stronger this time.

 

Finn disentangled himself, but didn't look away from the window. “What?”

 

“I'm sorry.” Poe frowned and tried scooting his gurney closer to his friend.

 

“Poe...,” Jessika warned behind him.

 

He sighed and lifted himself up on his elbows. “Get over here, jackass.”

 

Finn didn't move. Didn't reply. Poe succumbed and turned to the window and watched the stars with him.

 

“It's nice, isn't it?” he asked. Finn always caved with a little sentimentality. The sky was pitch black. Endless and infinite, melting into the dark silhouettes of the pine trees. “Flying at night is the best. That's when I broke my arm, you know. There was a comet and I wanted to see it closer.”

 

He bit his lip. Finn remained silent. Poe gave up.

 

When they arrived back to base Poe was shuttled off to the medbay for some more fun with bacta. His head was beginning to feel fuzzy again. Jessika sat next to him and played with his fingers, then tried getting him to play cards. He fell asleep sometime, and woke up to an IV in his arm and an empty room.

 

One of the medical droids delivered him porridge and toast for breakfast, the standard morning meal that was structured to not upset the stomach. Poe pushed the pulpy oats around after scarfing down the burnt, butter-less toast. BB-8 rolled in a bit later with a brand spanking new antenna.

 

[General Organa gifted me with new parts so yesterday's predicament would not happen again.]

 

Poe smiled. “That's good!” He felt guilty for being snappish toward his astromech the previous night. “You're workin' it well.”

 

[It will indeed improve my communication capabilities.] BB-8 stopped below the screen which listed Poe's vitals. [Friend-Poe is predicted to have a normal recovery.]

 

“I'd hope so, or else these med droids will need a little reprogramming.” Poe paused. “Have you seen Finn?”

 

[Friend-Finn has been in his room all morning. Should I call him with my new communication system?]

 

Poe snorted. “Sure, show-off.” He didn't expect Finn to answer, anyways.

 

BB-8 did a little elated jingle, then put call through to Finn's standard issue datapad.

 

Finn's voice sounded through the room, crystal clear. “BB-8? Why are you calling me?”

 

Poe's stomach dropped. “Shit,” he whispered, “hang up!”

 

[But you requested I call Friend-Finn—]

 

“What's going on?” Finn asked. “Are you okay?”

 

“Yeah,” Poe said. “Uh, BB-8's just testing out the new antenna. You should come check it out. B'll be so sad. Right?”

 

[Friend-Poe I am unable to express sadness.]

 

“Hear that?” Poe asked. “That's the sound of heartbreak.”

 

Finn sighed. “If you want to talk to me, Poe, find me yourself.” He hung up.

 

Poe pursed his lips. “That went well.”

 

There was a knock at the door and General Organa stepped inside. Her hair was pinned up again. She glanced up and down the hall, then shut the door. Poe frowned.

 

“This base is compromised,” she announced.

 

He sat up against his pillows. “What?”

 

“The lieutenants and I already figured we'd have to move after the destruction of the Starkiller, but we didn't think it'd be so soon. A team found that probe droid you saw and decrypted its report. It was analyzing the programming of our shields. Those mercenaries said they were hired to scout ahead and try to find a weak spot in our perimeter.” General Organa smirked. “Of course, they found none.”

 

Poe immediately thought of Finn, which lead him to Rey. “What if Rey and Luke come back and we're gone? Their communication channels are shut down.”

 

The general shook her head. “They'll have to find us somehow. I'm sure Luke can still sense me in the Force. He has the skill to pinpoint my location.” She clasped her hands behind her back and lifted her chin. It was a stance she used to give speeches and argue. “I'm sending pilots to scout for new planets, with soldiers to watch their backs. Finn will be one of them.”

 

Poe gripped the sheets in his hands as his brow furrowed. “But you said he hasn't proven himself...”

 

“Taking out an armed mercenary and keeping you safe through the night with meager supplies was enough proof for me. I need reliable people. The future of the Resistance depends on this mission. He's good on the ground—instinctive.”

 

“Or lucky. You're sending him out there blind!”

 

General Organa frowned. “You tried convincing me he was capable enough to back you.”

 

Poe scowled. ”Not off-planet! Not for weeks on end!”

 

“Oh, don't let your personal attachments get in the way of your professionalism,” she snapped.

 

He scoffed. “Is that what you call it? 'Professionalism'? Refusing to accept Han's death? Denying the idea that maybe Kylo Ren could still be your son? You—”

 

“Enough!” General Organa leaned toward him, her voice echoing throughout the room. Her eyes were unwavering, the lines around her mouth drawn tight. “I live with that every day. My husband's death on my conscious and the fate of my son. You don't know a damn thing about what I've gone through. I suggest you keep your inferences to yourself.” She strode to the door. “Finn has already been notified. He's leaving tomorrow.” And she left.

 

Poe tore the IV out of his arm and stood. “Damn it!”

 

BB-8 chirped in warning. [Friend-Poe you were strongly advised to remain—]

 

“Not now, B,” Poe barked. He stormed out of the room and down the hall. BB-8 followed him all the way outside and across the grass to the barracks. He burst into the hall and pounded on Finn's door.

 

Finn opened the door quickly. “What—” His face hardened. “Oh.”

 

“You're leaving me?” Poe asked. “For a whole month?” His chest heaved. He hadn't showered since traversing through the forest and still donned yesterday's outfit.

 

“Are you supposed to approve all of my decisions?” Finn asked.

 

“Yeah, if you're wearing my shirt!” Which Finn was; the white one Poe had given him weeks ago. Poe shoved him aside. “Where's my fucking jacket? I want it back!”

 

Finn tore it off the back of his desk chair and pushed it into Poe's hands. 'There! Happy?”

 

“No!” Poe grit his teeth, then groaned. “I don't even know why I'm angry!”

 

“You're an idiot,” Finn said.

 

Poe swiped the glass from Finn's windowsill, threw the daisies to the ground and poured the stones and water out on Finn's bed. “I want my fucking rock back!”

 

“You're insane!” Finn shouted.

 

“No, I'm crazy!” Poe found the smooth brown rock and picked it up, then whirled around to face Finn. “But you said crazy was good sometimes, right? Right?”

 

“It's not,” Finn said. “It's not good anymore. It never was.”

 

“Fuck you,” Poe cursed. He shouldered Finn out of the way, walked across the hall, and entered his room then slammed the door shut.

 

~

 

He got a solid half an hour of moping in before BB-8 gave up prompting him to speak and left and returned with Jessika. She opened his door slowly, like he was a wild, injured animal. Poe sat up in bed, wincing at his side. Jessika sat down at his desk and eyed him carefully.

 

“How is it?” she asked, gesturing to his injury.

 

“Well,” he surmised, “hurts like a bitch but I'm not dying.”

 

Jessika snorted. “That's always a plus.” She cocked her head. “You were close to getting a nasty infection, leaving the wound open.”

 

Poe grunted. “Finn did what he could.”

 

“I know. I'm saying what he did saved your life.”

 

“Add it to the roster,” Poe quipped.

 

Jessika stood and sat next to him against the wall. She bumped his shoulder companionably. “You like him.”

 

“Sure.”

 

“No.” She glared. “You really, really like him.”

 

Poe turned the smooth brown rock over in his hands. “I thought he liked me too.”

 

“Did you ask him?”

 

“No. I already freaked him out enough.”

 

“What happened?” Jessika clasped her hand over both of his to keep them still. “Out in the forest.”

 

“I mean, besides the whole shooting someone and getting stabbed and trying to stay alive thing, I thought it was going well.” Poe was tired. He slumped against Jessika. She smelled nice, like fresh laundry.

 

“Until?” she prompted.

 

“Until I fucked it up.” Poe ran a hand over his face. “Shit, Pava. I don't know what I did. He gave me this rock, right? Said it reminded him of me. It was cute, and I was out of my mind, and I started laughing. It was funny. I just about died and he gives me this rock.”

 

“And?”

 

Poe frowned. “That was it. He got pissed and stopped talking to me.”

 

“That's it?!” Jessika groaned. “Poe, don't you think he could have taken it the wrong way?”

 

“I mean, yes? But I was sick. And he didn't talk to me when you picked us up, and I was thinking fine then. Or this morning, either.”

 

“Oh my god.” She turned onto her knees and put her hands on his shoulders. “Finn grew up where people only said what they meant. Kill that, shoot this, do this. Okay?”

 

Poe swallowed. “Yeah.”

 

“Finn couldn't have understood you weren't laughing _at_ him. He takes everything at face-value. I told him when rebels play poker we only play strip poker and he believed me. Iolo tried getting the general to play cards and Finn freaked out.”

 

“ _What_?”

 

“Yeah.” Jessika nodded sagely.

 

“I'm a moron,” Poe whined.

 

“A little bit.” Jessika patted his face. “Just say what you mean. He only understands the truth.” She slapped him a little too hard. “What. You. Mean.”

 

“Okay.” Poe inhaled. “Okay.”

 

“Cool.” Jessika slid off of his bed. “I'm taking BB-8. We're having a sleepover.”

 

[Friend-Poe don't forget the objective Friend-Pava has assigned for you.]

 

Poe laughed. “I won't.”

 

They left, leaving Poe alone in the quiet with his thoughts. He stared down at the rock cradled in his palm. His side was killing him. They stitched it up last night and redressed his bacta bandages, but hadn't been as generous as Finn was yesterday in his panic so it was already beginning to wear off again. Poe pocketed the rock and picked up the medkit he was sent away with and Finn's jacket and left to knock on Finn's door.

 

No response. Poe stood there for so long he thought Finn was ignoring him, and was about to turn around and give up when Finn slowly opened the door. Finn's eyes were red and his shirt was disheveled and Poe's heart wrenched.

 

He held out his hand. “I'm sorry I stole your rock,” he said softly.

 

Finn looked down at his palm. “It's okay.” He took the stone from Poe gently and curled his fingers around it protectively.

 

“Can I come in?” Poe asked. He lifted up the medkit.

 

Finn rolled his lips together. Then he nodded silently and stepped aside.

 

Poe stood in the middle of the room, waiting for Finn to tell him what to do.

 

“You can lay down,” Finn said.

 

“Okay.” Poe set Finn's jacket beside the pillow on Finn's bed, then laid down on his back. He handed Finn the medkit. Finn brought his desk chair up to the bedside and rolled Poe's shirt up. He began picking at the tape that held Poe's bandages against his skin. Neither of them talked.

 

The cool air hit Poe's injury once Finn peeled off his bandages and he grimaced. Finn pressed his wide hand against Poe's stomach comfortingly, and Poe blinked up at him. Finn's fingertips traced the irritated skin around Poe's stitches, feather-light.

 

He opened the bacta pack from the medkit and unrolled the bundle of gauze. Poe watched him unfurl the gauze and gently run it through the bacta.

 

“Maybe you should be a medic,” he whispered. “I know you don't like hurting people.”

 

Finn's jaw stiffened. “I shot someone yesterday.”

 

“You don't like it,” Poe repeated. “You're good at taking care of me.” His throat tightened and the events from yesterday suddenly washed over him, along with his parents' deaths and the forests of Yavin IV and the comet he broke an arm to see and Finn's gentle touch and Poe started to cry. It wasn't a quiet kind of crying. It was loud and his breath stuttered and Finn was pulling him up and holding him against his chest and Poe continued to cry and cry into the front of the shirt he'd given Finn.

 

“It's okay,” Finn said, running his hand over Poe's back. “It's okay.”

 

Poe swallowed and collected himself. He leaned back in Finn's arms. “You were crying earlier.”

 

“I thought you didn't want me to give you that rock,” Finn said. “I love you.”

 

Poe smiled. “I know.”

 

“I'm leaving tomorrow.”

 

“You are.”

 

Poe's stitches stung in the open air. His injury worsened the longer he went exposed without bacta. He didn't care. He held Finn's jaw in his hands. “Can I kiss you?”

 

“Please,” Finn breathed.

 

Poe leaned into Finn's strong, warm body and pressed his lips against Finn's full ones. Finn didn't move. Poe pulled away after a moment. “Just follow my lead, okay?” he murmured. Finn nodded. Poe kissed him again, and this time Finn moved. He cradled the back of Poe's head with one of his hands and moved his lips against Poe's awkwardly. Poe smiled and let it happen. Finn gently laid him down on the bed and his wound flared and he let it happen. They faced each other on their sides and Poe closed his eyes as Finn lifted a hand to drift over his temple and cheekbone and nose and stubbled jaw and Poe let it happen.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter took awhile to write, I kept leaving and coming back to it and managed to work it into something presentable. I hope everyone had a great holiday. 
> 
> There's only the epilogue left! Thanks for reading.

They dozed off loosely held in each other's arms. When Poe awoke later he checked the clock he realized forty minutes had passed and glanced down at his wound. It was tacky with blood and pus and congealed bacta. He sat up and redressed himself with new bandages, then rested in the midday light streaming from the window; the glass full of flowers had been refilled and set back in its proper place. Finn's arm snaked around his hips and he looked down.

 

“I could've done that,” Finn mumbled.

 

“It's fine.” Poe placed his hand against Finn's arm. “You shouldn't go.”

 

“I have to.” Finn grinned. “Duty calls.”

 

“Duty can kiss my ass.” Poe urged Finn onto his back and his arm slipped from Poe's waist. “Did you mean it?” Poe asked.

 

“Mean what?”

 

“You know.”

 

“I have no idea what I'm doing,” Finn admitted. “I never knew I could feel the way I feel about you.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out the brown stone, rolled it between his fingers. “When you got stabbed... I saw your blood. I heard you scream. It felt like I blacked out. All I knew was that you'd helped me so much and you were hurt and I had to do something. And I—I aimed my blaster and I shot. Next thing I knew I killed him...”

 

He tipped his hand and let the rock fall onto the mattress. It glinted in the light. Finn smirked humorlessly.

 

“Captain Phasma always told us: 'You either kill or be killed. The Resistance will steal everything. They will betray you and murder you; you must betray and murder them first.' “ He looked up and met Poe's eyes. “For the first time in my life I believed her. He was going to kill you, so I had to kill him first.”

 

“I'm sorry,” Poe apologized. “God, Finn. You shouldn't have had to do that.”

 

Finn shook his head. “I can't _not_ want to. What you said earlier... You were right. I didn't like it. But I had to. I can't _not_ kill people. Not now.”

 

“This is all so fucked up.” Poe ran a hand through his hair. Finn was too good for him, for anybody, for this entire place. He should be a florist. He should go to a pretty planet and grow flowers and collect rocks. Not drag Poe's half-dead corpse around all night. “You... You don't have to do what you don't want to. You don't have to do what General Organa says. If she gets pissed she can take it up with me.” Poe licked his lips and clutched Finn's hand, suddenly inspired. “You wanna go? I'll fly you. We'll get the hell outta here. Take BB-8 with us. We can leave right now.”

 

“Your parents didn't die for you to run away, Poe,” Finn said.

 

Poe scowled. “I'm not running away. My mom left the Rebellion to be with my father—what's the difference?”

 

“The difference is I know you don't want that.”

 

“Why the hell does it matter anyway? I'm a failure.”

 

Poe snapped his mouth shut and looked away, tearing his hand back. Finn didn't say anything. Just waited, so patient and understanding, not demanding anything. Poe itched under his gaze.

 

“I told Kylo Ren about the map when he tortured me,” he grit out. “It hurt so much. My bones were on fire and he was tearing my brain apart and I told him. I told him, Finn. I fucked up.”

 

“No one could survive that,” Finn murmured. “He used the Force.”

 

“The Force only worked because I'm a coward!” Poe pressed his back against the wall, ducked his head and sighed. “He got into my head. Talked about my parents. My mom being sick. My dad. I saw our house burn over and over and over.” He paused, reliving the anguish. “He told me how much of a disappointment I was. Shit, I already knew. That bastard. He said my parents wanted a daughter and all they got was a good-for-nothing son. When he figured out I was born a girl he—he kept making me think I was wrong. It was like a virus. 'I'm disgusting. I'm disgusting.' All the things I buried away years ago, he brought it back in a second. And I let him.” Poe fisted his hands. “He only won because I had things he could use against me. Because I brought it onto myself. If I wasn't so messed up it never would've happened.”

 

“No one blames you.” Poe refused to lift his head. Finn crowded his side, touched his shoulder. “Poe, people think you're a hero. You did enough.”

 

“You can always do more.”

 

Finn's voice hardened. He gripped Poe's shoulder forcefully. “Really? How much more are you gonna do until you're dead, Poe? It's impossible!”

 

Finn took his shirt off. Poe looked up, startled. Finn's torso was covered in webs of thin, veiny scars threaded on top of one another. “Trust me,” Finn said, “I know.”

 

Poe's hand shook as he lifted it to Finn's chest. The scars felt like string and looked like roots embedded in soil. They were so soft and pale—lace stretched across Finn's heart. Finn flinched at Poe's touch but didn't move.

 

Poe met his eyes. “What do you want me to do?”

 

“Whatever you want.” Finn held Poe's hand against his chest.

 

Poe swallowed. “Yeah. Okay.” He blinked hurriedly. “Okay.”

 

“Okay.” Finn tugged his shirt back on and laid down. Poe curled into his chest.

 

“You're too damn good for anybody,” Poe murmured.

 

“I think I can handle settling for you,” Finn said and smiled.

 

~

 

After quick showers and a change of clothes, the rest of the day was filled with preparations and briefings for the recon mission, Poe stuck at Finn's side like glue. When they arrived at the tactician room Jessika sent Poe a thumbs up; he flipped her off. General Organa stared him down from the head of the giant holoprojector. On either side there were two pilots and six soldiers, including Finn.

 

Poe frowned. “Where's the other pilot?”

 

Jessika coughed. “Here.”

 

“You're kidding,” he said flatly.

 

She lifted her hands in admission.

 

“Dameron,” the general interjected, “you aren't authorized to witness this meeting.”

 

Poe raised a brow. Jessika grimaced.

 

Finn took a step closer to him. “With all due respect, ma'am,” he said, “if you send Poe away I'll just tell him everything once I leave.”

 

Poe snickered. Jessika beamed excitedly.

 

General Organa fixed Finn with a smoldering glare. “Prefacing a disrespectful comment with 'all due respect' does not negate its offensiveness.” The corner of her mouth quirked. “I admire your moxie.”

 

“She likes you,” Poe whispered.

 

“Did I ask for your two credits?” General Organa prompted.

 

Poe straightened. “No, ma'am.”

 

“Then shut up.” She swept her gaze over the rest of the team. “Now. Let us begin.”

 

The debriefing lasted an hour. The team was going to go to four planets on the opposite edge of the Outer Rim and spend a week at each. They were taking three pilots and six soldiers for a total of three men on each ship. Half the week was to be spent surveying the wilderness while the other half was to be spent in town. If there was a slightest hint of First Order sympathies the planet would be declared uninhabitable and abandoned. The four planets chosen were rather unoccupied and uncivilized, for good reason: the terrain was tough and unforgivable, the few slums violent or near-empty. There would be no help or new supplies nearby. It was an isolated mission; what the team left with would have to last an entire month. Communication channels would only be open once a week for progress reports.

 

Each member of the team exited the room with an encrypted datapad and the order to arrive at the hangar at exactly 0500 the next morning. Jessika hung back with Poe and Finn as Poe lit a cigarette.

Above them, the sky was swirled with fat gray clouds. People were guiding ships into the hangar as they prepared for the storm.

 

“You sure you can fly through this tomorrow, Pava?” Poe asked Jessika.

 

She slugged his shoulder. “Of course, asshole.”

 

Finn grinned. “She _is_ the best pilot of the Resistance,” he pointed out.

 

Poe scoffed. “Sure.” He blew smoke right into Finn's face. “Well, _she_ told me about the strip poker thing.”

 

Jessika laughed as Finn spluttered. “I—I was—” He inhaled smoke and coughed.

 

Jessika clapped both of their shoulders. “I'll see you tomorrow.” She leaned toward Poe and whispered “You're telling me everything later,” then whisked away.

 

Finn watched her leave confusedly, rubbing his chest. “I'm so tired every time I'm done talking to her.”

 

“You'll get used to it.” Poe glanced around, then laced his fingers with Finn's. “Listen. It's your last night here.”

 

“Right.”

 

Poe tugged him to a landspeeder. “Remember that restaurant I told you about?”

 

Finn smiled. “Uh-huh.”

 

“Well, let's go there. Right now.” He slid into the speeder and Finn sat beside him. “This is Iolo's. I don't think he'll lay my ass out too bad for stealing it without asking.”

 

The nearest town was an hour away from the base, and the drive there was mostly spent in silence. Finn ogled at the scenery blurring past them, the bright crystalline river and healthy pines, while Poe ruminated the mission over in his mind. A whole month without Finn, right as they finally got things straightened out, was going to be tough. At least he could see Finn when the communication channel opened, but he still feared he'd been talking to the walls within two weeks tops.

 

The sun set, and once they entered town the sky was totally black, business windows and street lights illuminating everything in multicolor. Poe parked the speeder and held Finn's hand as they walked down the busy street. Neither of them were wearing any Resistance or squadron insignias so no one watched them too closely, but it still took a long time to reach the restaurant as Finn kept stopping to marvel at shops or architecture or people from afar.

 

Poe liked towns in moderation. They were fun and had their uses, but growing up in the forests of Yavin IV and suffering through half a decade spent in Coruscant left him with a small tolerance for bustling crowds of people. He eventually managed to refocus Finn's attention and they arrived at the restaurant.

 

“Wow,” was all Finn said once they were seated. Poe grinned and bumped his knee under the table good-naturedly.

 

“You ever drink before?” he asked.

 

Finn shook his head.

 

Poe nodded. “Wanna try tonight?”

 

“Um...”

 

“Look.” Poe shoved the drinks menu across the table. “There's a tradition of getting shit-faced before heading off on a mission and you're overdue for a hangover. I mean, you don't have to if you don't want to, but...you can”

 

Finn squinted down at the menu. “I don't even know what any of this stuff is.”

 

“We'll start off slow,” Poe assured. “Beer tastes like piss no matter where you are in the galaxy. You should get a shot of something.”

 

“Are you gonna get one too?”

 

“No,” he snorted, “somebody's gotta watch your sloppy ass.”

 

Finn rolled his eyes and ordered the first drink on the list. It came _literally_ electricblue with a layer of orange jello on the bottom. Finn gave it an experimental sniff and frowned when it shocked his nose.

 

Poe laughed, lounging across his side of the booth. “If you're slow it'll be worse. Just drink it all in one go.”

 

Finn grimaced. Then he straightened his shoulders and tightened his grip on the glass. Poe bit his lip in anticipation.

 

Finn threw his head back with the shot—admittedly impressive—but choked and coughed and dropped the glass on the table. Poe caught it before it fell and smashed to the floor.

 

Finn smacked his chest and wheezed.

 

“Just try again,” Poe insisted, setting the glass back down.

 

Finn shook his head. “The fuck is in that?” he demanded.

 

“You never ask because the answer is always gonna be gasoline or spice or battery acid.” Poe beckoned their waiter over again—an approximate humanoid with indigo skin, the shade of which reminded him of Iolo—and ordered fries and another shot. The first would start hitting Finn soon enough.

 

“It's just one more. That'll be it.” Poe leaned over the table on his elbows. “You're a lightweight, man.”

 

“What?” Finn's eyes were glazing over. He frowned. “Is that bad?”

 

“Nah. I'll take care of you.”

 

Finn smiled. “Like you said I do.”

 

Poe scoffed. “Saving my life is a lot different than making sure you don't piss yourself drunk, but sure, buddy.”

 

“Okay.” Finn's smile turned bashful. “Good.”

 

Poe nudged his foot underneath the table. He wondered if Finn was going to be a confessional drunk; whenever Poe himself drank he was a handsy and obnoxious karaoke fiend.

 

“Before I joined the Resistance I was on Coruscant, right?” Poe rested his chin in his hand, curled his shoulders forward and lowered his eyelashes. Finn blinked, mesmerized. If they were going to be a thing Poe wanted to pull out all his tricks and reel Finn in properly. “The Senate rotated there right before I signed up with the Republic. I was twenty-five. But before then I'd been with Iolo. We were like freelancers, flying for whoever.” He snaked his free hand across the table and ran his fingers up and down the inside of Finn's wrist. “Can I tell you a secret?”

 

Finn nodded thoroughly. “Please. I mean—yes. Tell me. What is it?”

 

Poe smirked. “None of it was exactly legal. We transported stuff, no questions asked. We were like pack mules with blasters.”

 

“You were smugglers,” Finn said.

 

Poe drew random designs onto his skin. “It wasn't that organized. We never did any heavy lifting. We just got cargo from point A to point B—easy, quick runs. There was this one planet we stopped at in the Kessel system, it was like a pit stop for all the big name criminals to blow their cash at. There was this gay bar—”

 

“Gay bar!” Finn repeated incredulously. “You went to a—”

 

“Shh, baby. Yeah.” Poe ran his thumb up and down Finn's wrist soothingly. “Come on, are you surprised?”

 

“I mean...I never assumed...” Finn paused. “Are you...?”

 

Poe rolled his eyes. “A flaming homosexual. A giant queer. Yes.”

 

“That's not what I meant,” Finn muttered.

 

“I'm kidding.”

 

Their waiter came back with Finn's drink and a plate of fries. Before he left he winked at Poe. Finn gaped as Poe began eating.

 

“Straight boys don't get attention like that,” Poe said, “in case you're wondering.” He licked the salt off his fingers. “You want me to teach you?”

 

Finn tentatively held the second shot glass in his hand. “Teach me what?”

 

“How to be gay.” Poe touched Finn's calve with the toe of his boot but leaned back from the tabletop, ready to stop if Finn got cagey and uncomfortable. “You know, beefy guys are pretty popular.”

 

“Beefy,” Finn muttered. He lifted the shot. “I'm starting to prefer hunky.”

 

“Hunky, then,” Poe conceded.

 

Finn knocked the drink back without coughing. He set the empty glass down and stared at Poe pointedly. “I don't care about anybody else, though.”

 

Hook, line, and sinker. “Yeah?” Poe asked, leaning back in. “That's good to know.”

 

Finn's chin sagged to his collarbone. He shook his head. “Yeah...” His voice was deep slow and easy even if his words weren't. “I've never...never liked anybody like you before.”

 

“What?” Poe rounded the booth and leaned into Finn's side. “What do you mean?”

 

Finn turned so his back was pressed against the wall, brought his leg up so his thigh was nestled between the booth and Poe's knee. “Like...” He looked down at the knobs in the fake wood of the tabletop. “It's embarrassing.”

 

“I doubt it.” Poe dropped the act, brought his hand to Finn's side. His voice leveled out from a sultry drawl to its regular pitch. “It's okay. Hey. Look at me. It's okay.”

 

“Can we leave?” Finn scowled. “It's too loud.”

 

“Yeah. Of course.” Poe stood and took Finn's hand. “Come on. I got you.”

 

They drove out of town. Finn didn't talk so Poe didn't either. Whenever he glanced over Finn never seemed upset, just contemplative. They returned to base and Finn took the sleeve of Poe's shirt and began dragging him across the runway to the trees. He stumbled and his breath smelled like alcohol, but there was a kind of mirthful light in his eyes Poe had never seen before. It made him smile to himself.

 

Finn lead him to the lake, stood at the edge of the water and stared out, hand twisted in the fabric of Poe's shirt. The trees whispered and the bugs conversed and the lake stirred with the wind every now and then.

 

Suddenly Finn sat down in the sand. Poe followed suit, loosely wrapping his arms around his knees. It was nice. It was the kind of night Poe and his parents' would've spent stargazing on the ranch; or with Iolo on the roof of whatever inn they'd holed themselves up in at the time, passing a bottle of whiskey back and forth; or with the rest of the Rapier Squadron gambling for spare change under the lights of Coruscant; or alone, looking out the window of his room back inside the base and smoking a cigarette, for once not thinking about the war—but now it was just Finn and himself, and he didn't even want a cigarette or a drink or a conversation or a card game. He just wanted to sit there and be with his friend in the quiet, and have that be enough. And it was.

 

A few minutes passed before Poe curled his hand around Finn's knee. Finn seemed emboldened by the touch: he lifted his head and began to speak.

 

“You weren't supposed to have friends,” he said. His voice was less heavy and slow, but retained that faraway aspect caused by something more than the alcohol. “We had nicknames. I mean, they had nicknames. I didn't. I didn't even have a nickname. I was just FN-2187. And that was it.”

 

Poe squeezed his knee.

 

Finn took in a deep breath and continued. “I was good. That sounds so bad now, but I was good, Poe. Really...really good. I was Captain Phasma's favorite. And people were jealous of it. I didn't want it to happen. I don't know. It was just training. I was good at it. It was all fake, I kept telling myself that, so I didn't have to think about it. When we were about to be deployed, you could tell everyone knew and things changed. Before, we at least joked around a bit. Now nobody—nobody talked to anybody. I was so alone.”

 

“Finn...” Poe moved closer, but Finn stiffened so he pulled back.

 

Finn tore out a smooth rock from the silt of the riverbank and tossed it across the lake. It skipped twice and crashed into the reflection of the moon. He looked down at his hands and started picking the mud out from underneath his nails. “They made us fight each other. Slip—I knew him, he was always behind—he got a concussion or something, there was blood in his mouth and he could have died and nobody stopped him, nobody else cared but me.” He abruptly cut himself off. “I don't even know what I'm talking about anymore. He's dead now.”

 

 

Finn looked up. His eyes were still glazed and wide, now, too, but he gripped Poe's arms with a cognizant kind of fundamental fear. “I'm just not used to this. Do you get it?”

 

“Slowly but surely,” Poe said.

 

Finn shook him slightly. “I've been all alone and now I really think I love you and I don't know what to do and I'm scared.” His face contorted with sorrow. “I've never even had a friend before. And now you're—you're expecting something and I don't know if I can do it. I don't know if I can give you what you want.”

 

Poe turned and placed his hands on Finn's jaw. “I'm not expecting anything. You don't have to give me anything. We're going to go slow, okay? There's no rush.”

 

“I'm leaving tomorrow.” Finn swallowed.. “Poe, I'm leaving. _Tomorrow._ ”

 

“Hey, baby, c'mon...” Poe swept his thumbs across Finn's cheekbones. “You're leaving. So what? I can deal with that. Maybe it'll be good for you, to get out there and figure yourself out.”

 

“You shouldn't have to wait.”

 

“I've been waiting for someone like you my entire life and now you're here.” Poe smiled. “Do you get that? My entire life. Nobody's ever just...listened to me. My mom died, my dad tried telling me what to do, my friends never understood me. But it's so easy with you, Finn, I swear it. I've never met anybody like you before. And if I have to wait another month, then that's okay. You're worth it. What you did for me earlier today, it's worth it.”

 

Finn tensed under Poe's hands, so Poe let go. Finn scrubbed his face. Poe saw him wipe away a few stray tears but didn't comment.

 

“When I look at you I feel so bad,” Finn confessed. “No distractions. Nothing but the First Order. It's all I've known. And now I'm here. And there's flowers and rocks and you. And I keep seeing these flowers and rocks and they're all so pretty, and I think—I'll never see this flower or rock ever again. So I keep them all. I can't forget any of them. And—and when I look at you, all I think is I might never see you again.” He began crying earnestly now. “And I don't want to forget. But it's bad. It's a distraction. They'll take everything away from me again.”

 

Finn dropped his face into his hands and cried and his shoulders shook. Poe watched him, unsure of what to do. He put a hand on Finn's back. “Who says anybody's taking me from you?” he asked gently.

 

“I don't know,” Finn muttered into his palms. “Somebody will.”

 

“Give me a name,” Poe urged.

 

“The First Order.”

 

“When? Right now? When we're right next to the Resistance base?” Poe squinted up at the lights through the trees and grinned. “I'd like to see 'em try.”

 

Finn sat up and cleared his throat, the barest hint of a smile flicking over his face. “Okay. Okay.” He took Poe's hand in his and stared down at Poe's nails, flipped his palm up and examined all his callouses and scars.

 

“I don't know what's going to happen,” Poe said. He nudged Finn's chin up, forcing Finn to look at him. “I try not to worry about that. My dad worried about that. He didn't want me to fly because I could get hurt. But I could get hurt doing anything. That night I broke my arm—I could have broken my arm doing anything else eventually. It just happened to be that night. And it was worth it. Because if I hadn't tried flying that speeder I'd never have gotten close to that comet. It was so pretty. I still remember all of it. I'll never forget it. You don't forget things like that. Okay?”

 

Finn nodded.

 

Poe kissed him, nice and slow. When he pulled away he asked, “You want something to remember?”

 

“Yes,” Finn said.

 

“Alright then.”

 

The barracks were silent and cold when they went inside. Poe lead Finn to his room. He guided Finn to his bed and peeled the jacket off, threw it onto his desk; datapads and papers fell to the floor.

 

“Smooth,” Finn commented.

 

“Jackass.” Poe sat against his pillows and patted the spot beside him. “Come on.”

 

Finn sidled up next to him, hesitant.

 

Poe remained still.

 

“What do you want to do?” Finn asked.

 

“Whatever you want. You're flying this thing. I'm just the comet.”

 

“You're really bad at analogies,” Finn said.

 

“Good thing I'm a pilot and not a poet.” Poe hooked his hand around the back of Finn's neck and pulled him down. “Lemme help you out.”

 

They kissed. Finn's leg slid over Poe's hips till he was straddling Poe, molded against him chest-to-chest. Poe splayed his hands out against Finn's breastbone. He could feel Finn's lungs contract and expand as he breathed in and out.

 

“That's it, baby,” he said, glancing up at Finn, his palm pressed flat against Finn's heartbeat. “You okay?”

 

“Yeah.” Finn rested his hands on Poe's shoulders, dragged them down Poe's chest and stomach feather-light until he danced around the hem of Poe's shirt.

 

Poe raised his eyebrows. He laid back against the pillows and jutted his chin. “Go on.”

 

Finn lifted Poe's shirt with the tenderness Poe had come to characterize him with. He held the shirt in his hands and stared at Poe's torso unabashedly. “Okay,” he said.

 

Poe thought maybe he shouldn't have bought him that second shot.

 

Finn brought his fingertips up to the twin crescent scars bottoming Poe's pectorals, then curved his hands around Poe's ribs and traced the scars with his thumbs.

 

“It was, like, seven years ago,” Poe informed. “I found this surgeon for cheap. God, he fucked up. Iolo damn near killed him.” He smirked. “It healed like crap. We had the shittiest bacta solution. We cut it with water to stretch it out.”

 

“What?” Finn asked.

 

“It was literally just water. It made it all thin and diluted. We were idiots.”

 

Finn laughed. He laid down beside Poe, threw an arm over Poe's stomach.

 

“Tired?” Poe asked.

 

“Mmhmm.”

 

Poe ran his fingers through Finn's hair. “Go to bed, then.”

 

Finn dragged Poe flush against his side. “I don't want to.”

 

“Well then let's just talk.”

 

Poe kicked off his jeans and threw a blanket over them both, then burrowed up against Finn's warm, solid body. He began recounting another misadventure with Iolo, but within five minutes Finn was out cold.

 

Poe kissed his cheek. “Night,” he whispered. Finn didn't reply, but it was alright. He smelled like pine and old leather. Poe fell asleep breathing in the scent of him.

 


	8. Chapter 8

_And I took you by the hand_  
_And we stood tall,_  
_And remembered our own land,_  
_What we lived for._  
_And there will come a time, you'll see, with no more tears._  
_And love will not break your heart, but dismiss your fears._  
_Get over your hill and see what you find there,_  
_With grace in your heart and flowers in your hair..._

It began raining in the middle of the night and the storm dutifully persisted through the morning. Poe's alarm blared at 0400; this time he was on the edge of the bed closest to his desk and did not run into Finn when he smacked the alarm off. He laid in the silence for a moment, listening to the rain outside and Finn's deep, steady breathing, then forced himself to stand up and get dressed.

 

A few minutes later Finn was shuffling around in bed. “Morning, sunshine,” Poe greeted from the fridge. Finn grunted, rolling over onto his side. Poe tossed him the same protein bars they ate a month ago; it felt like forever.

 

Finn caught the bar easily. “You need to get better breakfast, man,” he mumbled tiredly.

 

Poe grinned. “Why would I when I can just steal yours?”

 

“There's not much left,” Finn admitted. He scrunched his nose. “Except for some strawberry yogurt.”

 

Poe raised an eyebrow. “What?”

 

Finn ducked his head, piecing the granola bar apart. “I only like the blueberry kind.”

 

“Blueberry,” Poe noted. “Fair enough.”

 

They ate in companionable silence. Finn kept the blanket up to his shoulders. Poe pointedly sat at his desk, bent over the fallen datapads, and Finn scrambled up from the bed and threw on his clothes from yesterday, then stood awkwardly in the middle of the room.

 

“I need to go get ready,” he finally said.

 

Poe leaned back in his chair. “Okay.”

 

Finn rubbed his neck. “I'll see you later?”

 

“Of course.” Poe grinned. “I'll meet you at the hangar.”

 

“Cool.” Finn nodded, paused. “Cool,” he repeated.

 

Poe snorted and hooked his foot around the back of Finn's leg, encouraging him to step forward, and Finn stumbled, caught his hands on the desk so he ended up bracketing Poe with his arms.

 

“You don't gotta ask, you know.” Poe held Finn's jaw between his hands and tugged him down for a kiss.

 

When he pulled away Finn stared at him for a moment, then leaned back in without prompting.

 

“Now you're getting it,” Poe murmured against his lips.

 

“Shut up,” Finn replied, resting his knee against the chair between Poe's widespread thighs.

 

There was a long knock at the door and Finn jerked back, flushing.

 

“Is it safe?” Jessika asked.

 

“All clear,” Poe confirmed.

 

She walked inside, BB-8 close behind. “I'm dropping the kid off.”

 

[Hello Friend-Poe!] BB-8 chirped.

 

Poe patted its head. “How was the sleepover?”

 

[I informed Friend-Pava on a wide array of topics pertaining to the Jedi.]

 

“The Jedi?” Poe asked.

 

Jessika blanched. “Uh—that's okay, BB-8, Poe doesn't need to know.”

 

[She was very interested in Friend-Rey.]

 

“Rey, now?” Poe crossed his arms and hummed. “Interesting.”

 

“It's nothing!” Jessika defended. “I'll see you later,” she huffed, then sped out of the room.

 

Finn frowned once she left. “What'd she say about Rey?”

 

“Apparently she asked BB-8 about her.”

 

“Huh.” Finn narrowed his eyes.

 

“Jealous?” Poe inquired jokingly.

 

“Ew, no.” Finn smiled and brushed an errant lock of hair from Poe's eyes. “Don't got a reason to be, anyways.”

 

Poe smirked. “Damn right.”

 

Finn suddenly bent down and kissed his forehead.. It felt more intimate than anything else they'd done, touching just for the sake of it with full unspoken permission. Finn trailed his hand over Poe's arm until he stepped back, and Poe blinked up at him.

 

“I love you,” Poe said.

 

Finn beamed. “I know.”

 

As Finn went to his own room to start packing Poe headed to the tactician room in search of General Organa. Threepio was there in all his gold, talkative glory, speaking to a few officers. Poe called his name from across the room, hands shoved into his pockets.

 

“Sir Dameron!” Threepio excused himself and hobbled over. “Good morning.”

 

“Morning.” Poe scanned the room. “The general here?”

 

“Oh, no,” Threepio said sadly. Poe snapped toward him. “She's been in her personal quarters since last night. It's quite uncharacteristic of her.”

 

“Take me there,” Poe ordered.

 

Threepio started in surprise, then reluctantly lead him out of the tactician room, toward the main hub of the base. He had enough tact to not complain about the rain. “Do you know what's wrong, sir?”

 

“It's my fault,” Poe said gravely.

 

Threepio made an affronted scoff. “Well, the princess is quite upset.”

 

“I know.”

 

“She hasn't let anyone in to see her. Even me! I've been down here trying to sort out the recon mission in her place. I doubt she'll talk to you.”

 

“Worth a shot,” Poe said as they entered the building, which was all vaulted ceilings and sleek efficiency, and they headed toward a set of elevators. Even this early the base was a flurry of activity.

 

“We'll see,” Threepio sighed. They took the elevator to the top floor and stepped out into a small hallway. The penthouse was supposed to serve a dual purpose as General Organa's private room and expanded office, but Poe knew there was just a mattress shoved into the corner and the rest of the space was overtaken by holoprojectors and computers and datapads quite literally stacked to the ceiling.

 

He and Threepio arrived to the door. From the windows in the hall one could see the entire base and the forest beyond, shrouded in that weird purple dusk/dawn and obscured by the rain. A flash of lightning cut across the sky, and Poe forced himself to look away.

 

Threepio knocked on the door. “Princess?”

 

“I'll be out in a minute,” she said amid frantic rustling. “I'm sorry—I overslept—tell Finn and the others I'm on my way—”

 

“Poe is here,” Threepio said.

 

There was a pregnant pause, then the door unlocked with a click. “Come in.”

 

Threepio scoffed and opened the door. Poe shut it behind them.

 

General Organa stood before them in a simple navy blue shirt and black slacks, her arms crossed and chin uplifted. Her hair was down, a thick cascade of gray-brown over her shoulders. Lightning flashed again, sharpening her features with quick shadows. “This better be important.”

 

Poe bit his lip. “I'm sorry.”

 

She narrowed her eyes.

 

“I am,” Poe insisted. “I—” He cut himself off, trying not to fall into a nervous tangent. “I shouldn't have said what I did about Han and—and Kylo Ren.”

 

“Call him Ben,” General Organa said. “You know who he is. Call him by his real name.”

 

“Ben,” Poe corrected. “I don't know anything about it. It was wrong. I betrayed your trust. I was angry and I took it out on you. I shouldn't have. It's not my place.”

 

General Organa sighed heavily and gestured to a chair. “Sit down, Poe.”

 

He nodded and obliged.

 

“I will be at the hangar,” Threepio announced.

 

The general nodded, then paced the rug in front of Poe. Over her shoulder there was a painting of a sea. Corellian.

 

“I'm not your boss,” she said, stopping. “I'm not your superior. You joined me without a second thought and ever since then I'll you've done is help me. You've never let me down, Poe.”

 

Poe gripped the arms of the chair. “What about Jakku?”

 

She raised an eyebrow. “What about it? Happens to the best of us. I was enslaved by Jabba the Hut when I tried to save Han, a long time ago.” She shrugged casually. “One mistake won't make me forget your years of service. I consider you my equal.”

 

Poe couldn't stop his boyish smile. “Really?”

 

She nodded. “Your mother stood by my side, once. It only makes sense you would fill her place.”

 

“Thank you.” Poe shook his head in disbelief. “That means a lot.”

 

General Organa finally sat down across from him. “We went on a mission to Naboo after Endor. She was a no-nonsense kind of person. If she wanted to say something she said it, and if she wanted something from you she asked for it upfront.” She grinned. “At least you're more charismatic.”

 

“I try,” Poe said.

 

General Organa leaned forward. “What I'm saying is you remind me of Shara. She got under my skin. You do too. I don't want you to feel like you can't speak to me honestly. We were both upset the other day.” She pursed her lips, glanced down at the floor, then met his eyes again “I projected my own problems onto you and I shouldn't have. You care about Finn, don't you?”

 

“I do.” Poe paused. “I love him.”

 

“Well, then.” General Organa smiled sadly. “Don't let anything get in the way of that. You'll regret it.”

 

“Yes, ma'am,” Poe said, feeling the gravity of the moment.

 

Her softness evaporated and she stood, a military leader once more. “Let's go.”

 

The rain was even heavier than before, but Poe didn't mind. He ducked into the hangar, soaking wet, as General Organa took off her coat, hair pulled into a methodical bun—watching her tie it back felt like seeing the creation of the universe.

 

Threepio waved across the hangar beside three small carrier ships, each of them only big enough for three passengers. Poe glanced inside, taking note of the cramped bunks and low ceilings. When he stepped out Finn was walking toward them with BB-8.

 

“He wanted to help me pack,” Finn said. BB-8 chirped in affirmation.

 

Poe leaned against the hull of the carrier and jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “This thing's like a shoebox.”

 

“We won't be spending a lot of time inside, hopefully,” Finn said. A large duffel bag was slung over his shoulder, and that was it. He was wearing Poe's jacket.

 

“You ever get sick of that thing?” Poe asked, taking ahold of the lapel.

 

“Nah,” Finn said, smiling.

 

“Good,” Poe replied, and they stared at each other for a moment like giddy teenagers.

 

General Organa cleared her throat. They both turned and Finn stepped back, but didn't scramble away which was an improvement. “It's time to leave,” she informed.

 

“Shit,” Poe muttered. He took Finn's bag in one motion and hopped up into the carrier. “C'mon. You gotta get top bunk quick.”

 

The noise of the hangar quieted once they were inside the ship. Poe tossed Finn's bag up to the highest bed then turned around. Finn pulled the four rocks he found in the forest out from his pocket, took Poe's hand, and silently deposited them into his palm.

 

“Keep 'em,” he murmured. “I won't forget.”

 

Poe curled his fingers around the rocks and looked up. “Thank you.”

 

“It's nothing,” Finn dismissed.

 

“No, seriously.” Poe pushed off the bunk and stood in front of him. “Thanks.”

 

“For what?” Finn asked.

 

“Everything, you ass.” Poe slung his arms over Finn's shoulders and kissed him.

 

Someone made a big show of banging around the cockpit. Poe snorted and leaned away. Jessika popped into the room and smiled wryly. “Oh, hey guys!”

 

“Hey,” Poe greeted flatly.

 

She rolled her eyes, then peered at the top bunk. “Goddamn it, Finn.”

 

“It was Poe,” Finn said.

 

She sighed and claimed the second bunk. “Figures.”

 

“All the systems good to go?” Poe asked.

 

“Clean as a whistle.”

 

“I've flown this model a few times. The joystick will catch if you turn too sharp. It's better to bank up or down instead.”

 

“I'll remember that.”

 

Poe strode to the cockpit and analyzed the control panel. “Okay.”

 

“Okay what?” Jessika called from the bunks.

 

“Just—okay.”

 

Her voice was suddenly much closer. He turned around and saw her walking into the cockpit. “It's fine, Commander. Chill out.”

 

“I am.”

 

“You're nervous.” She leaned against the back of the pilot's chair. “It's just a month.”

 

Maybe that wouldn't be so bad if he hadn't spent the last two constantly screwing things up with Finn. Now it was all working out and Finn was leaving. Poe watched the rain outside through the viewport.

 

Jessika sidled up beside him. “I don't think I've ever seen you this serious about someone before.”

 

“Me neither,” Poe huffed.

 

She clapped his shoulder. “Don't worry. You're Finn's entire world.”

 

“That's part of the problem,” Poe muttered.

 

Jessika frowned. “What?”

 

“Nothing.” He turned away from the cockpit and left the carrier. Jessika followed him confusedly. Finn exited a few moments later.

 

Poe considered taking out his smokes but decided against it, instead running his fingers over the leaf indentions on the fossil, hand shoved into his pocket. He turned to Finn. “You gonna be okay?”

 

“Yeah,” Finn said. “I'm kind of excited.” He blushed. “Last night helped, too.”

 

“Good,” Poe said.

 

General Organa walked toward them. “Ready?”

 

Finn nodded, not looking away from Poe. “Yeah.”

 

Poe stepped back. “Okay.”

 

General Organa noticed his hesitance and glared. “Dameron,” she warned sharply.

 

He shrugged helplessly. Finn furrowed his brow, bemused. General Organa threw her hands up. “You have five minutes,” she said and left.

 

“What was that about?” Finn asked.

 

“I don't know,” Poe lied. He sighed. “I don't know what to say,” he admitted. It was the first time he'd ever been in this kind of position.

 

“About what?” Finn asked, softening.

 

“Just—I feel like I should say something.”

 

“How about a goodbye kiss?” Finn said.

 

Poe blinked. “What?”

 

“We don't have to talk all the time.” Finn closed the gap between them. “I wouldn't leave without one.”

 

“Oh.”

 

“Yeah. Oh.” Finn smirked and leaned down to kiss him.

 

It was unceremonious but maybe that was the point. Maybe not everything had to be a grand gesture or major deciding factor. When Poe opened his eyes an ease settled into his chest, the kind he hadn't felt since his childhood on Yavin.

 

“Okay,” he murmured.

 

“Okay,” Finn replied.

 

Finn and Jessika and the rest of the team boarded the carriers. Poe watched them steer onto the runway and lift off. He stood in the rain even after he could no longer see them through the clouds.

 

General Organa walked toward him. He glanced at her. “What now?” he asked.

 

She stared out at the clouds. “You wait.”

 

~

 

_One month later_

 

Everything about Finn was different but exactly the same. He had filled out since his withdrawal from the First Order drugs, the steroids replaced with real muscle. His walk was lighter but he stood taller, and his voice wasn't as tentative. His grip on Poe's hand was stronger, too, more self-assured and confident.

 

The planet was a huge hodgepodge of biomes. The Resistance carriers landed on a beach, but as Finn lead Poe upward the soft ground gave way to hard dirt packed with underbrush and leaves. The trees were enormous, tall and auburn in the sun with vibrant green canopies, a hybrid of Yavin's tropics and D'qar's pines.

 

“Don't look,” Finn said.

 

“I can't,” Poe reminded. Finn's had clamped his hands over Poe's eyes a few minutes ago.

 

“No peeking,” Finn said.

 

“I seriously can't see anything, Finn.”

 

“Shh!”

 

Poe stumbled over a few branches and then Finn brought him to a halt.

 

“Alright.” Finn dropped his hands. “Look.”

 

There was a tiny log cabin nestled between two trees, with a small porch and flowerbeds underneath the windows. Poe rubbed his eyes as if it was a mirage. “What the hell?”

 

Finn smiled beside him. “General Organa said her best pilot could probably use a promotion. It's not that far from base but it's still in the forest, like you like.” He took Poe's hand and lead him up to the porch. “I planted all the flowers. Most of them are wildflowers.” The interior was white with deep green and brown furniture.

 

“Holy shit,” Poe said. He ran his hands over the windowsill, watched how the light fell onto his knuckles. “This is insane.”

 

“Thank the construction droids.” Finn stood by the front door.

 

Poe looked down the short hall. Two bedrooms and a bathroom. “Where are you staying?” he asked.

 

“At the base, I figured,” Finn said.

 

Poe snorted, turning around. “Base isn't finished. It's way too crowded.” He pulled the four rocks out of the pack on his back (Finn told him to bring all of his belongings) and lined them up on the windowsill, right behind the flower petals. “You can't just build me a fucking house and not expect to live in it.”

 

“I don't know,” Finn mumbled, staring at an errant stripe of grain in the wooden floor.

 

“Hey.” Poe strode toward him and laced their fingers together. “You can have the extra room.”

 

“Does that bother you?” Finn asked.

 

“Of course not. I haven't been with you in a whole month. I'll keep you as close as I can—as close as you want,” Poe amended. “I'll take as much as you want to give.”

 

Finn nodded, looking at their entwined hands. “Okay.”

 

Poe smiled. Finn finally lifted his head and smiled too. Sunlight streamed in through the window and the last traces of apprehension bled from Poe's shoulders.

 

“Okay,” he said.

 

Finn squeezed his hand.

 

It was more than enough.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there you have it! Thank you all SO much for reading. I had a ton of fun exploring the characters in this fic and I hope you enjoyed my interpretations as well, your feedback really motivated me to continue writing and take risks. I appreciate every single comment/kudos/bookmark.
> 
> I'm taking a break from writing to pick up my TWD marathon again and work on some HUGE Star Wars projects (two novels, basically) but I have a few smaller one-shots planned to hold you guys over; some of it is Stormpilot and some of it isn't. Stay tuned. :) Thanks again!
> 
> EDIT: I forgot to mention that the landscape of the new planet is based off of the California Redwood national park. It's where they filmed Return of the Jedi, and I thought it would be a nice combination of Finn and Poe's preferences.


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